


Alrighty Aphrodite

by hit_the_books



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcoholic John Winchester, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bisexual Castiel, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Demisexual Castiel, Demisexuality, F/M, Homophobia, Hurt Sam Winchester, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Mechanic Dean, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Non-Consensual Kissing, Online Dating, Oral Sex, Pining, Rich Castiel, Rimming, Roommates to lovers, Sexual Content, Sexual Harassment, Switching, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 16:45:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 38,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10034123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hit_the_books/pseuds/hit_the_books
Summary: Dating apps can be an absolute nightmare, but Castiel Novak isn’t giving up on the dating game as he wrestles with creeps, moving house and starting a new job in Lawrence, Kansas. Maybe it’s time for Castiel to realize that love can be found a lot closer to home.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Not for Coffee](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7789612) by [hit_the_books](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hit_the_books/pseuds/hit_the_books). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to [thevioletcaptain](http://thevioletcaptain.tumblr.com/post/157899339918/dating-apps-can-be-an-absolute-nightmare-but) for the amazing art C:
> 
> Thank you to [A_Diamond](http://archiveofourown.org/users/a_diamond) for being my beta reader on this C:
> 
>  **NOTE:** Please note that all explicit sexual acts in this fic take place with either just Dean or Cas or both of them together. Dean does not harass Cas.
> 
> And just in case you ponder this after the first chapter: all dating app conversations in this fic are based on ones that I have experienced in an actual dating app, with names and hobbies changed. Technology... it can do so much to bring us together, but it does nothing for class.
> 
> 1 April 2017: Before you potentially, later comment that a demisexual person somehow wouldn't fall for someone as fast as Cas does, please respect that this story is written from my own demisexual experiences. I resent that I am having to put this note in after posting, but I am sick to death of all the comments that are trying to nullify my own experiences. Everyone's a bit different, but the key thing is the lack of immediate attraction - Cas is not instantly attratced to anyone in this story.

Boxes littered the living room floor and Castiel Novak had been about to start on unpacking one, but his cell pinged. He was pretty sure most people would question his choice of staying in on a Friday night—even if it was a pleasant late September evening—but his move into Gabriel’s apartment (which Gabriel was renting out to him while he was contracted out in India) hadn’t gone as smoothly as Castiel would have liked.

In the first week, the super had been called up three times to fix odds and ends that had mysteriously chosen Castiel’s first week in the apartment to break. The place was nice enough with its high ceilings, open plan kitchen and living room, en suite bathrooms, minimalist white walls, two bedrooms, and ample shelving and closet space—it just needed the odd bit of TLC, especially before winter came.

Plus it was his first week at his new job and he was almost running on empty. Turned out being the new marketing assistant at Milton & MacLeod (the premier marketing agency in all of Lawrence, Kansas, if not the whole midwest, (its location allowing its staff the “space to be creative thinkers”, unlike agencies in New York, Chicago or LA)) meant running around like a headless chicken while you fetched coffee for everyone—from the office dog, to the clients and everyone in between—and working late evenings pulling together PowerPoint presentations for your boss.

Time just wasn’t something Castiel had had since moving in the previous Saturday. So why was he picking up his stupid cell and looking at the latest message to come in over AA, a.k.a. AlrightyAprodite? He didn’t have time for it, but he swiped through to the message preview on his cell anyway. It was pointless and certainly not the most important person Castiel could be talking to right now.

Further into the apartment came the sound of a steady drumbeat and flurry of guitar strings over a stereo system, making Castiel bite his bottom lip a little. Castiel had said maybe five words to his roommate since contracts had been signed the previous Saturday. Okay, they’d both been busy with work—his new roommate had started a mechanic job at a local auto shop at the same time as Castiel starting his new marketing position.

But there he was, about to check out another message from some stranger and Castiel hadn’t even said good evening to Dean Winchester. _You’re being rude_ , Castiel thought glumly and then checked out the message on AA anyway.

 _Oh god… why do I even bother?_ Cas asked himself, reading through the message on his screen sat beside some shot of a guy’s chocolate six pack:

[SweetGuy96] You look like fun, are you into younger guys at all?

Castiel rolled his eyes and swiped through to SweetGuy96’s profile. He was 20, only five years younger. _Younger guys my ass_ , Castiel thought darkly and went back to the message thread:

[SweetGuy96] I like my geeks :)

Okay, fair, Castiel’s profile was packed with details of all the novels, videogames, TV shows and films he was into. His love of the _Doctor Sexy, M.D._ TV show was mentioned more than once. If he was going to describe himself as anything outside of his job then it would be a geek. Sighing, Castiel typed out a message and sent it:

[Blue_Seraph] I am into younger guys. You like your geeks do you? Well I am definitely one of those.

Putting the cell down on the coffee table, Castiel went back to the box he’d been about to unpack. Delving a hand inside it, Castiel pulled out a paperback copy of Stephen King’s _The Dead Zone_ and looked at the empty bookshelves in front of him. Deciding he’d put all of his Stephen King books together on one shelf, Castiel placed the novel on the very top of the bookcase, his old black _Ghost in the Shell_ t-shirt riding up as he stretched.

“Ahem,” coughed a voice from behind him and Castiel jumped, dropping the book onto the floor. Dean was stood in the living room, a faint blush on his cheeks. “Uh, sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” His roommate was dressed in some jeans that only just held onto his hips and an old, stretched out Black Sabbath t-shirt, light brown hair softly styled. Dean’s green eyes shone in the living room light.

“It’s fine.” Castiel turned and bent down to pick up the book and place it on the top shelf.

“Uhh, yeah. Say, you eaten yet?” asked Dean, tone friendly and inviting.

Facing Dean again, Castiel shrugged. “No. Why?”

“Thinking of ordering in some pizza.” Dean smiled and tilted his head towards the stack of takeout leaflets on the nearby kitchen counter. The leaflets had been entrusted to Castiel by Gabriel. “You game?”

At the mention of pizza, Castiel’s stomach gave an interested rumble and he nodded. “Sure, pizza sounds good.”

“Any preferences?” Dean asked, heading over to the counter and picking out the menu from a nearby pizzeria.

“No anchovies.”

“Anything else?”

“Just skip the anchovies and I will happily eat whatever you order.” Castiel flashed Dean an encouraging smile and Dean grinned back.

“Okay, but just remember: you had your chance.” Dean pulled out his cell and called up the pizzeria.

Returning to his books while Dean ordered, Castiel pulled out a Robin Hobb novel from the box and tried to figure out which shelf would be his fantasy novels section. Deciding on the middle shelf, Castiel stacked the book there. The shelf directly under the King section would be for horror novels by other authors. He carefully went through his first box of books and sorted them between the shelves, with the bottom shelf being given over to science fiction and speculative fiction.

Castiel had almost forgotten that Dean was moving around in their shared living space, but then Castiel’s cell pinged again.

“You gonna get that?” Dean asked while pulling some beers out of their fridge.

 _When did we get beer?_ “I will.”

“Just not yet?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

Straightening up from the box he’d been fishing around in, Castiel went over to the coffee table and picked up his cell. “It’s probably nothing urgent.” Castiel unlocked his cell and swiped through his alerts, seeing he had a new message from SweetGuy96. “Yep, nothing of any real import.”

Opening up the latest message, Castiel sighed as he read it:

[SweetGuy96] Yeah they’re always more interesting, and way more fun to be around :)

“Says the guy with a six pack,” Castiel muttered and typed back a quick response:

[Blue_Seraph] Well I’m not gonna disagree with that. You into anything like Doctor Sexy?

“So who is it?” Dean walked over to Castiel and nodded towards his cell.

Sighing again, Castiel shook his head. “Just some guy messaging me on a dating app.”

“Guy, huh?” Dean licked his lips.

Castiel frowned at Dean. “I like men and women. That’s not going to be a problem, is it?”

Letting out a light laugh, Dean looked a little red in the face again. “Oh no, definitely not a problem. What dating service you using?”

Weighing up the pros and cons of telling Dean, Cas decided he was already living with the guy, so why not? What was the worse that could happen? “AlrightyAphrodite. Though it’s feeling like the A-List Subscription is pretty pointless. Hasn’t helped me find anyone. I still get messaged by jerks and creeps.”

Getting closer, Dean crossed his arms. “This guy a jerk or a creep?”

“Don’t know for certain yet, but I get the feeling I’m about to find out…” Castiel looked down at his cell and another message from SweetGuy96 pinged through:

[SweetGuy96] I catch the odd episode. More of a Sherlock kinda guy though haha

“Maybe not,” said Castiel, looking up at Dean. His cell pinged with another message and he looked down at the screen:

[SweetGuy96] Also, is it a bad thing if I look at your pictures whilst having sexual thoughts? ;)

 _Bingo: we have a creep._ “Scratch that. Dude’s definitely a creep.” Castiel typed out a reply and sent it.

[Blue_Seraph] Do you know what demisexual means?

It was a simple enough question, Castiel had his orientation listed as demisexual. He didn’t know why he was replying, he knew where this conversation was going, like so many before it. Tended to be guys who were the worst at not understanding his orientation, not bothering to Google it or just outright blanking it from their minds.

“Can I see?” asked Dean.

 _Sure, why not. Might as well have an audience._ “Okay.” Castiel scrolled to the top of the messages between him and SweetGuy96 and handed his cell to Dean.

The cycle of emotions that flashed across Dean’s face was amusing to watch—there was neutrality, interest, surprise and then disgust. Dean handed Castiel his cell back and shook his head.

“Well he sounds _charming_ and looks ripped.” Dean gave Castiel a concerned look.

“Looks aren’t everything,” Castiel replied, warily eyeing his cell, wondering when, if, the next message would hit.

“So you’re demisexual as well as bi?” Dean asked casually.

“Yep.” Castiel’s cell pinged again and he checked out the latest message:

[SweetGuy96] demisexual? Im afraid not, please do enlighten me!

[SweetGuy96] Do i look like the kinda guy you could see in your bed?

 _C’mon!_ Castiel gritted his jaw, annoyance and anger bubbling inside him. “Think I’ll be blocking him soon enough.”

“Why, what did he say now?”

Castiel passed his cell back over and Dean read the latest messages.

“This SweetGuy96 is a real charmer.” Dean passed Castiel’s cell back. “You gonna explain to him before you block?”

“May as well.” Castiel hit search and found a definition via Google that he liked. One that explained how demisexual people don’t feel sexual attraction to someone unless they have a strong, almost profound, emotional bond with them, and that it doesn’t have to a romantic relationship. Copying the explanation into AA, Castiel sent the message and then sent another one saying:

[Blue-Seraph] And it’s a shame you didn’t Google it yourself—I mean, it’s also on my profile (it’s not there to be a throwaway fact)—because then you would have realized that your bed comment and your sexual thoughts comment… Realllllllllllly don’t do anything for me.

Eyes on the screen, Castiel waited until the app said the message had been read and then hit block. “Well that’s one creep dealt with, but the night is young.”

“Forget about him,” said Dean and then the buzzer for their apartment intercom sounded. Dean hurried over to buzz their pizza delivery in. “Forget about that app. Let’s eat pizza, drink beer and hang out.”

When Dean put it like that, Castiel had to admit that what he was offering was a way more pleasant idea than fielding more crap messages from people on AA. Switching his cell WiFi off, Castiel put his cell down and cleared some space on the coffee table for the pizza.

***

If he were being honest, Dean would admit he had been surprised to have his roommate application on this place accepted. His references had been good, sure, but this was the tenth apartment share he’d applied for in less than a week and the rest had come back with a resounding no—not even accepting his request to view them.

But Cas? Castiel? He’d accepted Dean’s request to see the place, checked out his paperwork and asked him on the spot when he could move in. And on top of all that Cas ( _Castiel?! What a name, who names their kid that?_ ) was easy on the eyes—with his dark ( _sexed-up?_ ) hair and brilliant azure eyes, slim, yet muscular build—making Dean feel things he hadn’t in awhile. His surname was a little unusual, though sounded weirdly familiar, but Dean wasn’t going to hold it against him.

The world never managed to shift itself into orbit so that everything was coming up Milhouse for Dean—but here he was, just over a week later, paying for pizza and about to share it with his (if he were being honest with himself) hot, slightly older roommate. Yeah that part had not escaped Dean’s attention, but he was not—would never be—some fucking creep about it.

 _Not like that asshole,_ Dean thought as he carried two large pizzas over to the coffee table. Putting the two boxes down, he went over to the counter, grabbed some napkins and brought them back over.

“Okay, this,” Dean said, sniffing as he opened the top box, “is a Kansas City Carnage. And this,” Dean continued, lifting out the bottom box, opening it and giving it a sniff, “is a Bacon Cheddar Cheeseburger.”

“Vegetables not your thing?” Cas asked, picking up a napkin and going for a slice of the Carnage.

“Hey, it’s the end of the week. I don’t know about you, but I have been rushed off my feet and to me, meat cheese and carbs equals just the right level of TLC. Anyway, my younger brother already made me eat a salad today.” Dean picked up a napkin and grabbed a slice of the pizza that didn’t know if it was a cheeseburger or not.

Cas swallowed and tilted his head as he asked, “Younger brother?”

Huffing out a quiet laugh, Dean nodded and beamed at Cas. “Sammy. Well, Sam, he doesn’t like being called Sammy anymore. He’s just started his second year at University of Kansas, pre-law.”

“You sound really proud of him.”

Nodding, Dean replied, “I am. He’s come a long way… we both have.” Dean took a bite of his pizza and moaned quietly at the perfect mix of meat, cheese and mustard.

Seeming to take that as his cue to start tucking in, Cas took a bite of his pizza and hummed his approval. The two of them got through several slices in companionable silence, sipping beer, and Dean felt himself finally starting to relax for the first time in a long while. His life was coming together: he was out of his dad’s house; he had a steady job and Sammy was studying hard. All things he couldn’t have imagined having six months prior, back in March.

Okay, sure Sam had been studying hard, but Dean having his own life on the right track? That had seemed like an impossible dream while he’d been under John Winchester’s roof. Now Dean just needed to get used to the idea that he was out and that he had a real chance to make something of himself.

Not that John had believed Dean when he’d said he was moving out and that Bobby Singer had signed him up to work vehicle restorations, and general maintenance and repairs at Bobby’s auto shop. And John had certainly not believed Dean when he told him he’d saved most of his wages from the Roadhouse for the past nine months and had enough to move out and set off on his own.

John’s disbelief on that last one had mainly come from him being unable to comprehend that Dean had managed to hide that much money from his drinking habit. Dean had given up some time ago feeling sorry for his dad. John’s drinking had gotten worse since his wife died and he’d not seen what he was doing to his sons. Hardly saw his sons either—no idea who or what his boys were growing up to be.

Overachieving Sam with his amazing grades and deserving dreams, sweet on a girl and looking to become a human rights lawyer. And Dean, just after a touch of the apple pie life and a corner to call his own—oh, and bisexual.

Cas swallowed a gulp of beer and belched before asking, “So, what do you mean… you’ve both come a long way? I thought you were from Lawrence?”

 _Oh, geez, not here to be a sob story_. “We are. It’s just… we’ve been through hell the past few years. Mom died of cancer some ways back and, uh, dad, well he took to drinking like a pro.”

His roommate regarded him with a genuinely sympathetic look, eyes soft and understanding. “I’m sorry to hear that, Dean.”

Finishing a swig of his beer, Dean gave his roommate a thankful smile. “Thanks, Cas.”

Castiel quirked an eyebrow at the nickname. “Cas? That’s a new one.”

Giving Cas a sheepish look, Dean licked his lips and asked, “Sorry. You don’t mind, do you? I’ll call you Castiel all the time if you want me to?”

The most adorable smile broke out over Castiel’s face and he shook his head. “No, I like it. Never had a nickname before.”

Dean spluttered a little on the glug of beer he’d been taking and put his bottle down. “You’ve never had a nickname?”

Cas shrugged and picked up another pizza slice. “Youngest of six. I’m the baby of the family that no one had anytime to play around with.”

“What about school?” Dean persisted, because he was having a hard time believing that someone could get to their 20’s without a nickname.

“Mostly kept to myself. But thank you, I like Cas.” Cas took another bite of pizza and his gaze settled on the bookshelf opposite them.

Picking out another slice for himself, Dean took a bite and tried to think what it would have been like to have grown up in such a large family. He’d spent so many years looking out for Sam while his dad cared for their mom—it would have been nice not to have felt like he was alone.

“You sure got a lot of books,” Dean commented.

“You haven’t seen my game collection yet,” Cas teased before his tongue chased after strings of cheese dangling off of his slice. _That is some tongue_ , Dean thought, taking in its length and beautiful shade of pink.

Cheeks warming, Dean looked away from Castiel. “So you weren’t lying to that dude then, you really are geek?”

Chuckling, Cas leaned forward and snatched up his beer again. “Definitely a geek.”

Deciding it was safe to turn around again, Dean faced Cas. “What games do you like to play?”

“Oh, a bit of everything. Though my favorites are probably roleplaying games. Like _Skyrim_ or _Mass Effect_.”

The names sounded familiar, but Dean couldn’t say he’d ever played either of them. It had been some time since he’d had a controller in his hands and the chance to play a game. Though that might have had something to do with his dad pawning his old PlayStation 3, and when Dean realized John would do it again, he hadn’t bothered buying a new one.

“You play anything?” Cas asked.

“Uh, used to. Mostly some _Madden_ , and the odd racer, but not in a long while.” Dean went to take a sip of beer and found he was out; a glance at Castiel’s bottle told him his roomie was out too. Getting up he went over to the kitchen and got two more chilled bottles from the fridge. Twisting the tops off, Dean put Cas’s fresh bottle on the table and took a sip of his own. Sitting back down on the couch, Dean tried to chase away the bad family memories, instead trying to think of how his week had gone.

“Well, if you ever feel like playing anything of mine, lemme know and I’ll set you up with your own account.” Cas gave him a warm smile. After a week of nothing, it amazed Dean just how warm Cas was being to him. It was refreshing, nice, and was making Dean’s stomach feel a little funny. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had given him butterflies this bad.

“Thanks, man.” Finishing up with the pizza, Dean took the remaining slices and consolidated them into one box that he put in the refrigerator. Heading back over to the coffee table to get his beer, Dean spotted Cas staring at his cell. SweetGuy96’s short series of messages rolled through Dean’s thoughts and he tried to figure out just how someone as cute as Cas thought he needed a dating app to try and find himself someone to hook up with.

Surely anyone would give their right arm to spend time with someone like Cas? _I know I would_ , Dean thought soberly to himself. _And I’ve only known him a hot second_. Standing by the coffee table, Dean cleared his throat. “Need any help unpacking?”

It was almost like Castiel was seeing all of his boxes for the first time. Cas slumped in his seat, looking defeated. “Don’t worry, you can go do your own thing.”

“I don’t have a rammed social schedule tonight, so...” Dean said, picking out a book out of one box. He looked at the cover and saw that it was _Carrie_ by Stephen King. Eyeing up the bookshelves, Dean saw that the King novels were all occupying the top shelf. Without asking, Dean took the book and placed it on the top shelf. There was a system at work.

Dean looked over his shoulder at Cas. “So, Stephen King top shelf. Horror by anyone else underneath, then fantasy and then on the bottom shelf you’ve got your sci-fi?”

Giving Dean a look of surprise, Cas nodded. “Yeah, that’s how I’ve been stacking them.”

Having reassured Cas that he understood his system, Dean worked with his roommate to file away the rest of his novels before venturing on to placing out his videogames. The guy definitely had a lot of things, but Dean liked that he was able to help him out in some way. Sure it wasn’t much, but helping Cas stack everything was really better than doing nothing.

Cas filled the silence between them with a description of his first week in his new job. This included how he’d had to wrestle with a Yorkie called Juliet in order to get hold of a memory stick that had some critical client presentation on it. Once Cas finished, Dean told him about the restoration job he’d started on a ‘76 Ford Mustang Cobra II and how work on that had taken up most of his week.

Talking with Cas for an hour as they sorted through his things, it became clear to Dean that he was into the guy. But he knew his usual moves weren’t going to work and anyway, Dean didn’t want to shit where he ate, so that meant he needed to tread carefully. He couldn’t mess this up or else he’d be looking for somewhere else to live.

And he was never going back to his dad’s.


	2. Chapter 2

Feeling overly warm and generally far too full, Castiel glanced around the large round table that had been booked for a working lunch with one of their new clients. The client sold a brand of sneaker that had been gaining traction with younger markets and… _Hell, this is so damn dull. They’re just sneakers!_ Castiel thought as he passed a bottle of red wine to the only other junior person at the table, a young designer called Meg Masters, and she poured herself a generous glassful.

“You want some?” Meg asked, long dark curls falling over her pale shoulders and midnight blue sheer top contrasting with her pale skin.

Castiel shook his head. “Thank you, but no. I believe I’m driving my boss back to the office after this.” Sneaking a glance at Crowley MacLeod, _the_ MacLeod of Milton  & MacLeod, Castiel made note of the redness of Crowley’s cheeks and the half-full wineglass in front of him. He’d definitely be driving Crowley back.

“Suit yourself.” Meg’s lips curled in a mischievous smile and she leaned forwards towards Castiel. “What are you doing after work?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Castiel said, “I’m meant to be going for drinks with my roommate. There’s a bar he wants to show me.”

“Well, I hope you have a good time,” said Meg. She finished her glass of wine and excused herself to go to the restroom.

It wasn’t much later, until Castiel was parking in the underground lot for his apartment building, that his brain caught up with how Meg had acted towards him in the restaurant. She had been flirting with him and Castiel had been completely oblivious. Castiel turned off the engine and let out a long sigh. Meg had been interesting in an aloof sort of way and maybe if Castiel had the chance to hang out with her a little more he might have felt something towards her. All this he realized as he sat in his car, the engine cooling and creaking as the warm metal settled down.

Reaching the apartment, Castiel let himself in and dumped his laptop in his bedroom. Ears pricked, he listened for any sign of Dean, but was greeted by silence—punctuated by the distant hum of traffic outside. He just had time for a quick shower before Dean showed, so he headed into the en suite attached to his room and turned the water on.

Water warmed, Castiel closed the door and stripped out of his clothes. Stepping in under the spray, Castiel felt the muscles in his neck and back relax, the day’s tension leaving him. The lunch earlier had felt like he was the only one working. He’d been the only one taking notes on the meeting and the list of actions he’d sent out to concerned parties would be something everyone would be thankful for come the following Monday.

Still, his second week at Milton & MacLeod had been less intense than his first, but Castiel knew all too well how things might intensify further. This wasn’t his first rodeo, after all; he’d gotten the job because of his existing experience. All he could do was hunker down and prepare for all eventualities.

Water running in rivulets down his head and chest, Castiel cleared his head and put work out of his mind. Relaxing further in the warm steamy water, Castiel reached out for his shower gel and poured some onto his hand. Soaping himself up, it wasn’t long before Castiel was stroking his dick, mind blank as he focused on the pleasantness of the sensation, dick filling with blood. Soon fully hard, Castiel stroked himself with purpose, breath fast and hitched. The wet slip and slide of his hand over his cock made the muscles in his stomach tighten and he started to hold his breath a little as he quickly found himself cresting towards release.

And then he was surprised to imagine Dean, naked and bent over in front of him. For a moment Castiel’s hand stilled and a blush warmed his cheeks despite the steam surrounding him. Then he went with what his mind had suggested and he started to pick up his pace again, hand stroking long and firmly over his aching length.

Down and back. Down and back. Castiel’s hand tugged on his foreskin, and on each downward stroke, he teased his slit with the tip of his thumb. Toes curling, Castiel moaned loudly as he quickly came, relief and euphoria singing through him as thick ropes of come splattered onto the wall opposite him and coated his hand.

Worried that Dean might be back at any moment, Castiel shook himself out of his post orgasmic bliss and then cleaned himself up and the shower. Once he was out of his bathroom, Castiel heard the door to the apartment open and close.

“Hey, Cas, you home?” Dean called.

“Yeah,” Castiel replied through his bedroom door. He rushed to dry himself, his hair damp across his head—and sticking up in a million different directions—when he finally emerged, dressed in a green checked shirt and jeans, ready for the evening.

“Hey,” Dean greeted from the kitchen, mug of coffee in hand.

“Hey,” Cas threw back and grinned.

Dean passed Castiel a mug of coffee and grinned. There were smudges of grease on his cheeks. “Alright, I’m gonna finish this coffee, grab a shower, change and then we are heading out—okay?”

“Okay,” Castiel replied, unable to hold back the smile growing on his face.

“And don’t snack while I’m in the shower. We’re getting food.”

“Getting food. Okay. Got it.”

Dean returned Castiel’s smile and finished his own coffee. “See ya soon,” said Dean and then headed into his room.

Cas pulled over the book he’d left on the kitchen counter and continued to read _A_ _Game of Thrones_. It was Castiel’s second time trying to read it, and he was enjoying it more than his first go, though he was finding it hard reading a novel with so many characters to hate. The hype surrounding the TV show had not escaped Castiel’s notice, but in between the despicable characters and the onerous amounts of detail in each chapter, Castiel was struggling to find anything or anyone to love.

 _Maybe I should just get the audiobook?_ Castiel pondered, taking a break to sip his coffee. Heading back into the story, Castiel was just about settled into reading it when his cell buzzed. Letting out a long breath, Castiel pulled his cell out of his pocket and saw that he had a text message from his eldest brother, Michael:

[Michael] Mom is insisting you join us for Thanksgiving. If you do plan on coming, please let us know if you have a plus one.

Poised to reply to his brother, Castiel stopped as another message came through:

[Michael] If you say you’re not coming with a date, mom *will* fix you up with someone terrible. Guaranteed.

 _Seriously?_ Cringing, Castiel put his cell down on the counter and stared at the string of messages like they were a coiled snake that would spring forth and bite him if he even looked at it the wrong way. And that was the problem, the promise relayed to him was poisonous, his mother yet again not giving him space to just do things at his own pace. So what if he hadn’t found anyone yet—he was only 25. His parents may have married early in their 20’s, but that didn’t mean Castiel had to follow suit. Gabriel hadn’t and Castiel didn’t have to either.

Thinking of Gabriel, Castiel sighed, wishing that he had it in him to be as aloof as his older brother was, at least to their shared family. Gabriel had been doing his own thing since he graduated high school, doing his best to stay out of the sights of their parents and the rest of the family. But Castiel hadn’t been able to step away that easily and of course that meant his parents were still interfering in his love life and generally far too eager to help him out.

At least he wasn’t dependent on their money and reputation like Michael, Abner, Ezekiel and Hannah. He’d at least managed to strike out on his own, but then that had been due to him getting an inheritance from an uncle that had been fond of him. So it was still family and Castiel’s mom who had said several times how said uncle would be disappointed if Castiel remained a bachelor.

Sighing and picking up his coffee again, Castiel tried to figure out a reply for Michael, but he couldn’t pull one together. He wanted to bring his own date, that much was certain, but if he didn’t say who he was bringing, Michael would just relay that Castiel wasn’t bringing anyone and his mom would play matchmaker.

Locking his cell, Castiel got up from his stool and looked at himself in a mirror he’d hung on one wall in the living room. His hair was still sticking up like he’d just gotten out of the shower and attacked it with a towel. Striding over to his room, he tried to comb and brush his hair into submission.

His hair was having none of it.

***

The Roadhouse was packed, but Dean found him and Cas a spot at the bar. The two of them looked like they belonged there, Cas with his green check, and Dean with his leather jacket and old Black Sabbath t-shirt. The bar was a home away from home, Ellen having given him and Sam the run of the place back when their dad’s drinking had made staying home too dangerous for young Sammy. There was a booth by a jukebox that Ellen would let Dean and Sam hang out at, so long as Sam did his homework and Dean didn’t hustle too much pool. When Dean had turned 21, Ellen had let him start working at the bar. The familiar dark wood panels, marred table tops and scent of chili that overrode the smell of beer was like a comforting blanket that always let Dean know he was safe and had friends.

Waiting to be served, Dean tried not to read too much into how quiet Cas was being, but it was hard to ignore the shift that had taken place while he’d been in the shower. Staring up at the long mirror that ran behind the drinks shelves, Dean kept sneaking glances at Castiel. He tried to guess what was up, but he’d only known the guy just over two weeks and that wasn’t enough to go on.

 _Maybe he had some shitty message over AlrightyAphrodite?_ Dean conjectured. Since the previous Friday, Dean had taken some time to make himself familiar with what being demisexual meant for Cas. Dean had grown to appreciate that any messages that started quickly on the sex pick up side of things were incredibly unpleasant for Cas to read.

So if he had had a bunch of messages like that just before they caught a cab to the bar, Dean could understand why Castiel looked as miserable as he did. He didn’t do the talking and feelings stuff normally, but the change in Cas had been so great that he couldn’t not say something. Sucking in a long breath, Dean turned to Cas and asked just audibly, “Everything okay, man, you get some sucky message over AA again?”

Cas flashed Dean a confused look, as if asking “why are you asking?” and then shook his head and shrugged, the movements slow and tired. “No, not from AA.”

“So you got a crap message from somewhere or someone else?” Dean asked then caught the eye of the bar’s owner, Ellen Harvelle. Ellen rolled her eyes and strolled over.

“I don’t want to talk about it right now,” Castiel replied, going silent right as Ellen rocked up in front of them.

“What can I get you boys?” Ellen gave them both a warm smile.

“I’ll have a Lonzo’s and one of your chili cheese burgers, with fries.” Dean looked over at Cas and waited for his roommate to order.

Cas managed to make eye contact with Ellen and asked, voice only just audible above the bar’s general hubbub, “I’ll have what Dean’s having.”

Hearing Cas say his name, even with Castiel’s misery writ large, made Dean’s stomach clench a little. But Dean couldn’t be thinking about Cas in that way right then. It wasn’t the time or the place to dwell on how having Cas so close to him, warmth radiating into Dean’s side, felt kinda right. Dean had to check himself as he realized he was leaning in towards Cas.

Ellen told them that she’d put their orders on a tab and hurried off to the kitchen. Alone once more, Dean tried to talk to Cas again. “C’mon, Cas, if something’s eating ya, you… can tell me, okay? I don’t judge.”

A pair of sad blue eyes turned towards Dean, and stared right at him and Dean had to resist lurching forwards and wrapping his arms around Cas. His roommate swallowed and said, “I had a text from one of my brothers asking if I was coming to Thanksgiving.”

 _Okay, doesn’t seem so bad._ “And?”

“And he said mom was going to try and set me up with someone if I didn’t bring a date.” Castiel looked away then and seemed to deflate a little.

If Dean had been told this the previous week, he wouldn’t have understood how this was such a big deal, but knowing what he now did about Cas, Dean could see how that was a crap prospect. And no, he hadn’t told Castiel a thing about how he felt, but the plan was already coming together in his head. He had a couple of months, maybe he could turn it into something real by then—and before Dean knew what he was doing, he said:

“If you don’t have a date, you could take me.”

Castiel gave Dean a shocked look. “What about your brother?”

“He’s already planning on spending Thanksgiving with his new girlfriend. I’d just be by myself anyway.”

A frown creased Castiel’s brow. “I don’t need your pity, you do understand that, right?”

Dean held up his hands, seeing Ellen approach with beers. “Hey, what are roommates for? Actually, don’t answer that. But, uh, yes, I’ll go with you.”

Tension left Castiel’s shoulders and he relaxed on his stool. “Thank you.”

Dean gave Castiel’s back a friendly wallop as Ellen put their beers down in front of them. “Food shouldn’t be too long,” Ellen said and then looked between Dean and Cas. “So… you gonna introduce us?”

Quickly swallowing a mouthful of beer, Dean nodded and said, “Ellen, this is Cas-tiel, my new roommate. Castiel this is Ellen. Ellen owns the bar.”

The storm cloud that had been looming over Cas was gone. His roommate reached across the bar and shook hands with Ellen, Dean noticing just how tight Ellen squeezed Castiel’s hand as if testing him. The small nod the short blonde gave Cas told Dean that his roommate had just passed some kind of test. Letting go of Castiel’s hand, Ellen went off to serve some more customers.

“You don’t have to be my plus one,” Castiel said quietly, hand resting on his beer glass. He’d yet to take a sip.

Dean rolled his shoulders and audibly cracked his neck a little. “Man, you make it sound like I’m gonna have the worst time in the world if I go with you. For all you know I might be looking forward to bringing over some of my famous pumpkin pie.”

That got Castiel’s attention. He sized Dean up, almost in disbelief that his roommate knew how to do something like baking. “What? Just because I fix cars means I can’t know my way around a kitchen?” Dean winked at Cas, which made Cas blush.

“I’m sorry, I just…” Cas began.

 _Though this does give me the perfect opportunity to try something._ “Hey, I’ll cook for us next week. What do you like?”

“Um… I like Italian.”

“Awesome. I’ll make us lasagna. Does Wednesday evening work for you?” Dean gave Cas an encouraging smile.

“Sure, Wednesday works for me.”

Dean just barely refrained from saying “it’s a date”, instead he picked up his beer and clinked it against the side of Castiel’s glass before taking another sip. Part of Dean felt like he was playing Cas—as far as Dean could tell, Cas wasn’t at all interested in him _that way_ , at least not there and then. _But then just because you fancy someone doesn’t mean you just come out and say it_ , Dean reasoned. _And if Cas doesn’t like me that way when I finally tell him, then I’ll respect his choice. Offer to move out or whatever._

 _Though maybe I’ll find Cas has some terrible flaw and isn’t boyfriend material anyway_ , Dean thought as their burgers turned up. He looked at Cas, eyes alight more than they had been in in earlier that evening, and Dean couldn’t quite bring himself to believe that Cas had some terrible flaw he didn’t know about.

Both of them seemed to be starving, because they finished their burgers in record time, but neither of them seemed particularly keen on going home. There was an unoccupied pool table at the other end of the bar.

“You play pool?” Dean asked.

Cas finished his second beer and looked over at the empty table. “Never tried.”

Dumbfounded, Dean gathered himself together and said, “Never too late to learn. C’mon, we’ll grab some more beers and I’ll show you.”

Fresh beers in hand, Dean led Cas over to the empty pool table and slotted in some cash for the balls. He racked everything up and gave Cas a pool cue, then placed the cue ball down at the opposing end to the racked balls.

“Normally we’d toss a coin to see who breaks, but as I’m teaching you, you’ll break this time.” Dean glanced at Cas. “So if you wanna just come round here.”

Walking around the table, stance uncertain, Cas came to a stop in front of Dean and looked at the table. “Breaking… does that mean I hit the white ball at the rest?”

Nodding, Dean pointed down the table and began to explain the rules, how balls would be assigned and so on. Finally, Cas lined up to break and gave the cue ball a satisfying strike and got two stripes down on the break. Despite the good start, Castiel’s beginner luck ran out pretty early into the game and Dean won easily, but Dean’s pupil was a quick learner. Their second game saw Castiel almost win.

During their third game, Cas was snookered and really couldn’t see a way out of it. Standing behind Cas, Dean partially draped himself over his roommate and helped him hold his pool cue just so, helping Cas shape his left hand into a sturdy rest to push his cue from—high above the balls snookering the cue ball—and strike the cue ball. Dean had been a gentleman and had pulled away from Cas as soon as the shot was done, but there was no denying that he had enjoyed the closeness enabled by the position.

On their fourth game, Castiel finally won. To celebrate, Dean bought the two of them a shot each of one of the Roadhouse's finest single malts. Sat down at a small table, the bar a little less crowded as it was coming close to closing time, Dean felt a level of contentedness that had been sorely missing from his life. He’d really enjoyed himself and seeing Castiel red faced and laughing at a joke Ellen had just shared made Dean hope that Castiel had also enjoyed the evening.

They caught a cab back to the apartment just after closing. Dean had a pleasant buzz going on, not at all drunk, and he tried to remember the last time he’d gone out with a friend and not puked his guts out afterwards.

It had been a long time.


	3. Chapter 3

Foot tapping against the stripped back floorboards of the coffee shop, nervousness threatening to make him bolt, Castiel waited for his date to show up. He still wore his suit from work, though his collar was unbuttoned and his tie loose. It’s Tuesday afternoon and Castiel’s not sure how Meg found him on AlrightyAphrodite. But Little_Devil had found him and started chatting with him over the course of the weekend. Before Castiel knew what he was doing he’d invited Meg out for coffee. Cas had taken the plunge and asked her out after work. Finding someone on AA who was good enough to ask out for coffee was a rarity, but they’d hit it off.

Dean had asked if he’d be back for dinner and Castiel had told him he wasn’t sure. He was still unsure as he waited, a million concerns and expectations running around in his head. _What if she doesn’t really like the new_ Battlestar Galactica _or thinks that I’m just overthinking how I like people?_ But Castiel couldn’t really bring himself to believe that their entire weekend text conversation had been fake—Meg had been delightfully respectful and forthcoming. He wanted this to work, it had been so long since he’d been on a successful date.

Castiel finished the flat white he’d ordered and looked around. Meg was a few minutes late, nothing to worry about. Stilling his nervous foot, Castiel got up from his seat and ordered a pot of tea, deciding that he didn’t need any more serious caffeine. Heading back over to his seat and table, Castiel kept glancing around nervously.

Sighing in frustration, Castiel willed himself to calm down rather than appear as some half-hyperventilating mess by the time Meg turned up. Just as he managed to compose himself, Meg and the pot of tea arrived at the same time. Meg was dressed in a pair of black jeans, a purple sleeveless top and a red leather jacket. Her hair was falling around like it had at the lunch meeting and Castiel felt a tiny flutter in his stomach.

Getting up from his seat, Castiel shook Meg’s hand. “Great to see you again,” he said, smiling.

Meg returned the smile. “Sorry I’m late. My line manager wanted me to edit a design, because there was a weird line where there shouldn’t have been one. There was no weird line, it was a scratch on their iPad.”

Sympathetically rolling his eyes, Castiel nodded. “I’ve had requests to remove bits of punctuation from copy before that turned out to be nothing more than dirt on a client’s screen.”

Meg chuckled at that. “I’ll just order my drink. Be right back.” Meg hurried off to the counter and Castiel checked himself over one last time, running a hand nervously through his hair. He knew it was not going to fully behave, he could feel the tufts that and licks that refused to stay down, but he couldn’t help trying to push it down anyway.

Returning and grabbing the seat opposite Castiel, Meg offered another smile and put her purse down. “So what’s the story, morning glory? How’d you get a gig at Milton & MacLeod?” she asked, leaning onto the table.

Picking up his pot of tea, Castiel poured himself a cup as he answered, “I think my friend Balthazar would have called it “hard graft”. I did a great deal of interning, living on little to nothing for most of it.” Adding some honey, rather than milk, Castiel stirred his black tea.

“And when you finally got your first paid gig, you were the guy who stayed late. Happy to help on weekends…?” Meg gave Castiel an appraising look, eyebrows quirked up.

Shrugging, Castiel picked up his cup of tea and blew on it. “I don’t do that so much anymore, but yes. I was one of those guys.”

“Well at least it paid off.” Meg’s drink, a chai latte, arrived and using a spoon, she stirred in the cinnamon that had been sprinkled on top. Castiel’s eyes lingered on Meg’s deep red lipstick as she licked the spoon, then he looked away, trying to will away the blush that crept up his cheeks.

“Did you always want to be a marketer?” Meg asked.

_Well it wasn’t what I wanted to be when I was five…_ “I think when I was five I wanted to be a train driver… at some point in college, marketing made sense and it stuck.” _Not that it’s what I really want to do_ , Castiel thought to himself. He had ideas and dreams, of things he could do with the wealth that had been left to him, but he wasn’t sure he could strike out on his own.

Doubt creeping in, Cas decided to bring their focus to Meg. “What about you?” Castiel asked casually before blowing on his tea.

Gazing across at him, Meg gave Castiel a look that told him she’d noticed him staring. Interested and fake innocence. “Oh, I was freelance for an age. Just doing what I could. Never interned, but you know: had a portfolio and experience. A certain swagger to my hips that probably got my foot through the door.” Meg smiled again and took a tentative sip of her chai latte.

Castiel felt a pang at Meg’s hips comment. He’d known several female colleagues over the years who were good at their jobs, but who knew they’d been hired because the men hiring hoped those women would spread their legs for them at some point. Few of them ever did and those same men would often make their careers at that particular firm hell until they moved on to the next pretty hire or Castiel’s colleague quit. He swallowed at Meg’s words and nodded.

“But we didn’t come here to talk work…” Castiel interjected.

“Right you are. So, look, cards on the table,” said Meg, giving Castiel a worried look. Castiel was ready to believe the worse, that Meg couldn’t date him now and this was just a pity meet. He mentally prepared himself for the rejection he knew was about to come.

“I can’t stand the fifth season of the new _Battlestar Galactica_ ,” Meg finished.

_Wait, what?_ Castiel’s brain took a moment to catch up with what Meg had said. “You didn’t like the fifth season?”

“Yeah. They should have just left it at the end of season four. They screwed up with the fifth. It felt like a betrayal of all they’d built up,” Meg drawled happily, not seeing to be aware that Castiel had just thought he was about to be let off the hook.

_She’s right._ Castiel nodded. “You’re right, it did feel very disconnected from the rest of the show.” He smiled. _Meg’s not running away_ , Castiel thought to himself and felt his heart calm a little.

Moving on from Battlestar, Meg and Castiel got through several hot beverages and many geeky discussions, though Castiel couldn’t believe that he’d found an even bigger horror fan than himself. Meg lived for horror and gave Castiel an aghast look when he confessed he’d never watched any of the _Saw_ films. Talking to Meg about what she loved and disliked filled Castiel with a sense of longing in his chest. An ache that he wanted to stop.

The time for the coffee shop to close rolled around and the two of them ended up outside. Living in different directions, Castiel had parked in a nearby lot, while Meg was planning on getting a cab. An intangible link seemed to hum between them, making them dawdle outside and not go their separate ways. The link was powerful and drew Castiel into Meg’s space just shy of touching her.

Like leaves bobbing along in the eddy of a river, they drifted towards an alley by the coffee shop. Once they were out of sight, traffic rolling on nearby, Meg pushed Castiel up against a wall and he went with it. For the first time in months, he was kissing another person, eagerly eating Meg up. He pushed for more contact as they kissed hard and long. Castiel seemed on board with this as much as Meg.

And then Meg pushed her left leg between Castiel’s thighs, dragging friction along his hardening cock, and suddenly Castiel wasn’t so sure he wanted this. Instead of Meg behind his closed eyes, he saw Dean and he whimpered in response to the conflicting imagery, the earlier ache diminishing. Meg seemed to take Castiel’s whimper as an indication that she should press in more and take the lead with their kisses.

Finally remembering he had hands, Castiel gently pushed Meg away and opened his eyes to a confused look from her. Her pupils were deep, cheeks red, lips slick and hair tousled. Castiel suspected he looked very much the same. Searching for what to say, Castiel struggled to understand what had happened. Meg frowned, clearly a bit concerned and backed away from Castiel.

“Sorry,” Castiel said, voice steadier than he felt, “I just, um…”

Meg shook her head. “No it’s my fault. Too much, too soon. You gave me the lowdown in our messages. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

_Yeah, that’s why, Cassie, damnit._ Castiel nodded. “Thank you for understanding,” he lied.

“Look, um, I’m gonna head home. If you want we could, y’know, do a Saw marathon next week? Location to be decided?” Meg gave Castiel a hopeful look.

He lied again, “Sure. Sounds good.”

Grinning, Meg led them out of the alley and they went their separate ways. Driving back to the apartment, Castiel couldn’t stop thinking about what his wandering mind had done. Twice. He got back to the apartment in good time and Dean was in the living room watching a rerun of Doctor Sexy.

Dean seemed to know something was up, he got up from his seat rather than keep his attention on the television. “Everything okay, Cas?”

The nickname made Castiel’s stomach clench in a good way. “Yeah. Fine.” He took off his trench coat and hung it up in their small hallway.

Asking no more questions, Dean went into the kitchen, put the kettle on the stove and made Castiel a pastrami sandwich. The way Castiel sat at their breakfast counter was automatic. Soon he had a sandwich and a cup of tea and Dean was sat beside him with his own tea and a sandwich. Doctor Sexy droned on in the background.

The attention pulled Castiel in two directions. Frustration at himself for ending the date with Meg like he had and worry that Dean wouldn’t be interested in him in that way. _But what about Thanksgiving?_ He pondered. _He’s just feeling sorry for you_ , a voice piped up and like a fool: Castiel believed it.

***

On the stove, a Dutch oven housed ground beef, onion, sweet Italian sausage and crushed garlic, the ingredients sizzled away. Filling the apartment with the mouth watering smell of browning meat. The night before, Dean had tried not to push Cas for details on what happened during his meet up with this Meg woman. But he was worried on Cas’s behalf, hoped that nothing bad had happened and that the two of them hadn’t really hit it off being by themselves.

Having gone into Bobby’s auto shop early that Wednesday, Dean was home before Cas would be so that he could get the lasagna, he’d promised, going. Dean hadn’t cooked anything quite as luxurious since his mother had died. It felt good to be doing something like this for another person. He just hoped that Cas liked the end product.

While at Bobby’s shop, Dean had been half distracted, reminding himself of how he should cook the meal. Bobby had noticed and asked him who the girl was.

“It’s not like that,” Dean replied.

“Sure,” Bobby nodded sagely, greasy rag between his hands as he wiped them, “and I was born yesterday, and dunno what another man looks like when he’s got it bad. Boy, give me better credit than that.”

Shifting away from the car tail fin he’d been assessing, Dean rubbed at the back of his neck. “That obvious, huh?”

Bobby laughed and chucked his greasy rag at Dean, which he dodged. “Yep. And you were in at crack o’ dawn so you could try to clock off early. So, who is she?”

Dean gave Bobby this look that begged him to let Dean off the hook, but Bobby had just stared at Dean more sternly. He had no idea how Bobby would take the news that he liked women and men. Bobby was a good man most of the time, but it’s not like Dean’s sexuality had ever come up in casual conversation at the shop or back at Ellen’s bar.

But Bobby knew John, not that the two of them had talked in years. Dean didn’t want his coming out to be what got the two men talking again. It wasn’t like Dean was one hundred percent sure how his father would react, but he didn’t want to find out.

_Bobby’s not like dad_ , Dean reasoned with himself. _He didn’t tell your dad when he caught you trying your first cigarette. Didn’t tell him when you’d gotten yourself blind drunk for the first time._

Taking a deep breath, Dean rubbed at the back of his neck. “He’s my roommate.”

Not missing a beat, Bobby asked, “He nice?”

Dipping his face a little, Dean blushed. “Yeah.”

Bobby cleared his throat. “He interested?”

Dean shrugged. “Not yet. He’s, uh…”

“In the closet about being bi? Gay?” Bobby prompted.

Hearing Bobby say those words made Dean blush further. “Kinda bi? He likes women and men, but…”

“But?”

“He’s demisexual too.” Dean looked at Bobby to see if his boss, friend, understood what he meant.

Frowning, Bobby asked, “Demisexual?”

“Yeah. It means he’s not attracted to someone unless he’s formed an emotional connection with them first,” Dean reeled off.

Bobby gave a thoughtful nod and crossed his arms across his chest. “But he doesn’t know you like him-like him?”

Dean shrugged. “Not yet.”

“Idijit. You planning on telling him?”

Going a little pale, Dean gnawed on his bottom lip. “He’s only known me a month. I don’t want to scare him off.”

Sighing, Bobby rubbed at his neck. “You need to tell him eventually.”

Dean looked away, unable to mask his guilty expression. “I know I do. But I want to give him a chance to get to like me first.” _And I’m gonna be his date at Thanksgiving,_ Dean added to himself.

Bobby had nodded at that and turned to head back to his office. “Well, mind you don’t shit where you eat,” he’d said and walked off.

In the kitchen, Dean’s cell beeped at him to announce a text. Breaking out of his reverie, Dean checked the meat, stirring it here and there, finding it all browned. Picking up a saucepan on another burner, Dean poured his special tomato sauce in with the cooking meat, stirring it all together. Adding a generous dash of oregano, basil, salt and pepper, Dean mixed the seasonings in with the sauce and meat and then covered the Dutch oven. He turned it down to simmer and put his cooking spoon down.

Remembering he had a text, Dean grabbed his cell and checked the text:

[Cas] Should I pick up some wine?

That was the last message Dean expected to get. He replied:

[Dean] Sure. If you want

Dean was about to put his cell down, but then it pinged again.

[Cas] What type of wine?

_I don’t know, I don’t normally drink it. Uhhhhh… I think some kind of red would go with it, from what I’ve heard._

[Dean] A red that goes with lasagna?

Ping.

[Cas] Okay, I’ll get red.

Dean put his cell back down and got on with prepping the rest of the lasagna's ingredients. Everything else ready, Dean went to his room to tidy himself up before Cas got back. Pulling on a pair of new jeans and a freshly laundered blue flannel shirt, Dean tried not to think of what he was doing as a date. He was just cooking a meal for his roommate. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Just homemade lasagna, a bottle of red wine… _and each other_. Dean looked himself in the mirror he was stood in front of and gulped. _Nothing’s gonna happen unless Cas wants it to happen. Nothing is gonna happen. Not now._ Dean ignored the bit of his brain that whispered “not ever”.

Dressed, Dean headed out back into the kitchen and grabbed an apron to start preparing the noodles. Cas came home just as Dean started to assemble the lasagna in a casserole dish to go in the oven.

“Hey,” Dean greeted, eyeing the bottle of red wine that Castiel placed on a nearby counter. Without being obvious, Dean eyed Cas up, appraising his frame of mind with the way the man carried himself and the tension in his shoulders. He looked more at ease than he had after the date with Meg.

“I hope the wine is okay, Dean. The woman at the store said a Barolo would work well.” Castiel pulled off his trenchcoat and went to hang it up in their hallway.

“I’m sure it’ll be great.” Dean opened the oven and put the lasagna in. “Dinner’s gonna be twenty-five minutes if you wanna get freshened up.”

Straightening, Dean met Cas’s gaze and he didn’t know what to make of the look his roommate was giving him. Blue eyes were fixed on Dean and just as the weight of them became too much, Cas looked away and headed towards his room. “I won’t take too long,” Cas called over his shoulder and closed his door.

Taking a moment to set a timer on his cell, Dean set the breakfast counter with cutlery, napkins, side plates and wine glasses. _Maybe we should get a dining table?_ Dean thought, looking at the space available to them. He fixed a side salad up in a bowl, because that’s what he always used to do when he cooked for Sam and he didn’t know how health conscious Cas was. And he slid some garlic bread into the oven on a shelf above the main dish.

Dean pottered about, cleaning some of the utensils and dishes he’d used in preparing the lasagna. Forcing the work to keep all thoughts away, losing himself in the familiar motions of washing up.

A door opened and closed behind Dean. “It smells wonderful, Dean,” Cas called from behind him.

Dean turned and ducked his head a little, finding the compliment embarrassing. “Thanks,” Dean replied, looking back up, taking in a freshly showered Cas in clean, comfy looking stone washed jeans, and a black t-shirt that had Deadpool’s masked face on it.

“Sure it tastes good, too,” Cas added and winked— _wait, did he just wink at me?_ Dean’s mouth hung open as his roommate walked up to the kitchen drawers and started opening them, looking for something. Cas pulled a corkscrew out of a drawer and took it over to the bottle of wine.

Cas didn’t seem to notice that Dean had become frozen on the spot. Carefully, Cas opened up the bottle of red wine as Dean looked on. “Needs to breathe,” Cas explained.

The wine wasn’t the only thing that needed to breathe. Drawing in a long breath, Dean’s heart hammered in his chest and he sat down on one of the stools beside the counter. He couldn’t believe what he had just seen. _Maybe he didn’t wink, maybe I imagined it? Fuck, it’s only a wink. Like this is just a meal between roommates._

As if nothing had happened, Cas put the bottle down by the set places. “Maybe we should see if we can get a small dining table in here?”

It took Dean a few seconds to register what Cas had said. “I was thinking that earlier. Doesn’t have to be large.”

“I’ll have a look online later, see if there’s anything.” Cas gave Dean a smile and looked around the space. “Anything else you think we’re missing?”

_You in my arms._ Words stuck in Dean’s throat. He looked at Cas and found himself torn between staying with his long play or just coming clean with Cas and confessing what had been going through his head these past weeks.

The timer on Dean’s cell want off, turning the device into a chiming monster, Dean pulled it out and fumbled to stop the timer as he walked over to the oven. “I’ll give it a think,” Dean finally replied as he slipped on some oven mitts.

From what he could see through the oven door, the lasagna looked done. Dean opened the door and pulled the lasagna dish out, placing it on a large trivet. The kitchen was immediately filled with an even stronger aroma of rich meats, tangy sauces and herbs. Mouth watering, Dean turned from the lasagna a moment and pulled out the garlic bread too. The bread was placed on top of the stove. Giving a quick glance at all that was assembled, Dean decided they needed water too and he grabbed two bottles of water from the refrigerator.

Cas stayed by his seat and watched Dean as he worked. “Anything I can do?”

“Nah, just hop onto seat. It won’t take much to serve.” Dean gave Cas a hopeful smile and felt his heart melt a little when Cas returned it, blue eyes crinkling a little. Dean put the water beside their wine glasses.

“Well, I can at least pour the wine,” Cas announced and leaned forward over the counter to do just that.

Soon they both had plates filled with lasagna and salad, fresh garlic bread cooling on plates beside them. There was still plenty of lasagna leftover, but Dean didn’t mind, it just meant he’d get some decent lunch for the next few days. Hovering beside Cas a little while they sat, Dean held his fork in his hand while he waited for Cas to take his first bite of Dean’s cooking.

If Castiel noticed the scrutiny, he didn’t let on as he finally pushed his fork through the generous pile of cheese, deep tomato sauce, noodles and meat. Dean waited as Cas blew on the food and then pushed the bite of lasagna into his mouth.

“Mmmmm,” Cas moaned, swallowing. “This is fantastic, Dean,” Cas praised.

Cheeks burning a little, Dean finally loaded his own fork. “You’re just saying that.” Eating his first mouthful, Dean moaned too as the heady mixture of well cooked food hit his tongue. The lasagna tasted better than he remembered from the last time he’d cooked it.

“See, I told you.” Cas picked up his wine glass and took a small sip of the red wine. “Mmm, this is good too.”

Dean copied Cas and took a sip of wine. It blended together nicely with the richness of the lasagna. “That is good.” Putting the wine down, Dean looked over at Cas and found his roommate looking at him in a way that he couldn’t quite place, Dean blushed a little and went back to his food.

The two of them didn’t talk much while they ate, exchanging a few pleasantries about their respective days. It was a pleasant meal and Dean enjoyed having someone to share all of it with. Once they cleared away the dishes and put the leftovers in tupperware to cool down, Cas led the way over to their couch, remaining wine and glasses in hand.

Second glasses were poured and Cas set up the TV with his PlayStation 4 and slotted in what looked like a copy of some _Mortal Kombat_ game. _Okay, I can definitely get with this_ , Dean thought, fondly recalling all the times he’d buttoned mashed his way to victory against Sam when they’d still had videogames.

Reaching the character selection screen, Dean was about to pick Subzero when there was an angry knock at their apartment door. Dean flashed their intercom a look and then twisted to look at the door.

Cas got up from the couch, putting his controller down and Dean followed suit. The two of them walked over to their apartment door as the wood rattled in its frame again, a fist pounding on it.

“Open up, Dean, I know you’re in there,” called a surly sounding man’s voice.

_What the fuck, Dad?!_ Dean glared at the door. Cas looked like he was about to say something when another voice came through the door.

“Look, dad, Dean’s not home, look we can go—”

“Watch it, boy!” John barked.

Dean powered forwards and unlocked the door, almost slamming it into the wall as he opened it. “What the hell, dad?!” Dean shouted, taking in a tousled, frightened looking Sam and a very drunk John Winchester, the stale stench of booze oozing out of him, his jeans torn and his hair all over the place.

“Dean… Thank you for finally gracing me… with your presence.” John struggled to stay upright as he stood there in the door. “I—”

John Winchester didn’t get a chance to finish what he was saying, because just as he began to talk again, Dean spotted a rising bruise around Sam’s left eye. Gaze flicking to John’s right knuckles, Dean spotted broken puffy skin and then he was on his dad, shoving him up against the wall outside his apartment.

“YOU HIT SAM!” Dean screamed at his dad, pinning him to the wall. “WHAT IN THE ABSOLUTE FUCK?!”

John belched in Dean’s face and a wave of bile and booze stung Dean’s nostrils. His dad tried to push against his hold, but Dean kept the larger man in place. “YOU’LL SHOW ME SOME RESPECT, BOY!” John howled at Dean.

“Cas!” Dean called over to his roommate. “Take Sam inside and call the police,” Dean said more calmly than he felt. “Ask for Officer Donna Hanscum, tell her that Dean’s got a situation with his dad and give her our address.”

“Dean—” Cas began.

“Please, just do this favor for me, okay?” Dean looked over to Sam and motioned towards their door. Sam stalked past in a rush, long limbs unable to carry him fast enough and then Dean wrestled John down onto the floor and pinned his father’s arms behind him, to await the arrival of Donna.

Rage made it hard for Dean to say any more just then.


	4. Chapter 4

“You did the right thing, Dean,” Donna soothed from the couch.

Castiel tried not to listen in as he made cups of tea for Sam, Dean, himself and Officer Donna Hanscum. The apartment was too quiet, though Castiel was glad that the air was no longer filled with John Winchester’s protestations. When Dean had said over pizza, what now seemed an eternity ago, that he and Sam had come a long way—Castiel was beginning to understand what Dean had meant. Sam explaining how their father had barged into his dorm at college and demanded money had made Castiel feel queasy, especially the moment when the nineteen year old had recounted how his refusal to handover cash had been greeted.

“I know, I just…” Dean lapsed into silence and Castiel glanced over at the three of them gathered on the couch. Dean had his arm wrapped around his brother while Sam held some ice on his face.

Donna nodded. “Look, take Sam in to get his face checked out and make sure they record everything.”

“We’re not gonna press charges,” Sam gritted out. “I don’t need a doctor.”

The way Dean tensed beside Sam was visible to Castiel, even though he was stood all the way in the kitchen. _My own life’s problems pale in comparison to this_ , Castiel thought, reflecting on the Thanksgiving meal that would be happening the following month.

“Sam…” Dean started, but didn’t seem to have the heart to continue.

“Look, we’ll keep him in the drunk tank until he sobers up, okay?”

The two brothers nodded. Castiel wished there were some way he could help other than making cups of tea. It seemed wrong that these two men should have to endure something like this.

“Thanks, Donna.” Dean gave the officer a weak smile.

Finishing the tea, Castiel brought the mugs over on a tray to the coffee table and set them down. “Sam is welcome to stay here tonight.”

Dean perked up at that and gave Castiel a thankful smile. “Wanna stay here, Sammy?”

If the nickname was something that Sam normally despised, he showed no sign of being concerned with Dean using it. “If you’re sure.”

Dean shared a look with Castiel and he nodded. “Yeah, we’re sure. You can borrow my bed. I’ll take the couch.”

The four of them settled with their mugs of tea, Castiel sat perched on the coffee table across from everyone else. They blew and sipped on their mugs in silence, Officer Donna throwing concerned looks at the two brothers every now and then.

After a while, Dean cleared his throat and said, “Maybe, uh, I could call Pastor Jim and ask him to… to talk to dad? We haven’t tried that in a while.”

“Yeah… okay,” Sam replied scarcely above a whisper.

Donna drained her tea and put the mug down on the table. Standing she gave the two brothers a concerned look and then her face turned to a resilient smile. “Now, dontcha hesitate to call me if you two need anything, okay?” She turned to Castiel, giving him a quick look that suggested that this wasn’t over. “Thanks for the tea, Castiel. I better get back to the station.”

Without waiting for anyone to say anything else, Officer Hanscum strolled out of the apartment, quietly opening and closing the door. Castiel took Donna’s place on the sofa, so that he was sat on Sam’s right side. He shared a look over Sam’s dipped head with Dean. His roommate’s earlier anger was completely gone, replaced with concern and hurt.

Trying to make himself useful, Castiel passed Sam and Dean their own mugs of still warm tea. Sam had asked for peppermint and Dean had asked for the same, clearly unconcerned with what he had because his brother was here and in distress. Picking up his own mug of chamomile, Castiel found it hard to believe that just over an hour ago, he and Dean had finished dinner and were settling in to play some videogames.

It was hard not to feel a little annoyed at their interrupted evening, but Castiel was not at all angry with Sam. Instead he considered what he would do if John Winchester showed up again at his door like he had.

Dean shifted on the other side of the sofa and the television was on to a rerun of Doctor Sexy in no time. The three of them relaxed as the show filled the silence between them. No one seemed to want to talk, at least not that evening. They were three episodes down, Sam almost sliding off the couch, when Dean finally decided that it was bed time.

“You can decide in the morning if you want to go to classes,” Dean said as he led Sam to his room.

Castiel had gotten up from the couch, tidied their mugs away and found spare bedding for Dean. He made the couch as inviting and comfy as he could, but he was unsure if Dean would truly be comfortable, since the couch was a little shorter than he was tall. Once the couch was made up, Castiel got himself sorted for sleep, changing into sweats and an old ragged t-shirt, brushing his teeth and trying to comb his hair.

He was ready before Dean was, but he waited in their living room, because he wanted to be sure that Dean was okay before he went to sleep in his own bed. Truth was, Castiel couldn’t imagine being in Dean and Sam’s position. His own father was a distant parent, as was his mother, but they had never been cruel or violent. The same couldn’t be said for some of his older brothers, though he could imagine Gabriel fiercely protecting him should he discover that Castiel was in danger.

Dean didn’t have anyone looking out for him. Even if Castiel wasn’t quite sure of his feelings towards his roommate, he decided there and then that he would do more to keep an eye out for him. And his brother.

The door to Dean’s room quietly opened and closed. Castiel studied him as he walked towards the living room and the couch. There was a weariness to Dean’s eyes that had certainly not been there when Castiel had returned from work—Dean’s homemade meal felt like it had taken place in another reality, between different people.

Dean sighed. “I’m—”

“If the first words about to come out of your mouth are that you’re sorry for what happened tonight: then don’t. Please, Dean,” Castiel reached a hand out to his roommate and settled it on his left shoulder, “understand that I am here for you, should you need me. I’m going to bed now.”

Castiel squeezed Dean’s shoulder and was about to let go when Dean reached his right hand up and laid it on top of Castiel’s. “Thanks, Cas,” Dean said quietly, voice breaking a little. He let go of Castiel’s hand and headed for the couch.

Taking that as his sign to leave, Castiel headed into his own bedroom and closed the door. Castiel switched his lights round to the lamp he had beside his bed and picked up a book. Settling under the covers, Castiel found where he was in _A Clash of Kings_ and tried to read so that he could relax and fall asleep.

But he couldn’t focus on the book. Questions about Dean and Sam’s safety kept troubling him. What if Pastor Jim wouldn’t be able to talk John round to changing his ways? What if John went for Sam again? What if he went for Dean? And at that consideration, Castiel felt his chest tighten a little in fear. He was sure Dean could handle himself, the strength in his arms suggested he could, but what if John got so drunk that he did more than just throw a punch? How many times did something have to happen before Sam or Dean did press charges?

_What if Donna can’t protect them?_ Castiel considered with a shudder. He didn’t know much of Sam and Dean’s support network, but he worried whether it was enough. It was obvious that John needed help, that he was on a path towards self-destruction, but Castiel didn’t know what kind of help John needed so that he didn’t hurt his sons again. _Putting him behind prison bars would only stop one kind of hurt_ , Castiel concluded and sighed deeply.

Trying to will himself to focus on the novel once again, Castiel strove to relax so that he would be ready for work in the morning. Eventually sleep found him and he sleepily put his book aside and turned off his lamp. Burrowing under his covers, Castiel dreamed of watching Doctor Sexy, Dean’s head in his lap while he stroked the man’s hair, soothing Dean and making him feel wanted. He was too far gone to wonder at what this meant, but he enjoyed how safe Dean seemed to feel around him.

***

Rolling for the hundredth time, Dean moaned in frustration. The couch was nothing like his own mattress. And he had his knees bunched up so that his feet weren’t hanging over the end. Not that his mind would let him sleep. The low anger of earlier had been replaced with wonderment at Castiel’s compassion and worry about the future.

They hardly knew each other, but Castiel had clearly been concerned with what had happened to Sam and that was a gold star in Dean’s book. Too many of his previous partners hadn’t understood just how important Sam was to Dean, but Castiel seemed to have more than an inkling.

Still, Castiel couldn’t magic away the massive thorn in his side that was his own father. No, Dean had to handle that. Like he’d handled it since their mom died. _Damnit, we were meant to be leaving all of this behind. Should have moved to California like Sammy originally wanted_ , Dean thought glumly. Distance did appear to be the only answer if John continued refusing to help himself.

For a second, he thought about calling Benny—his old pal would happily have his ear talked off at an unsociable hour. Dean shook his head. He needed more than words, but what that more was—he didn’t know. He tossed again on the sofa and tried to get comfortable. Weary and tired, Dean tried to relax and let the sleep he so desperately needed claim him.

Breaths evening out, Dean drifted.

One of the bedroom doors creaked open. “De—” Cas yawned, “—an. You asleep?”

Dean sat up on the sofa and looked behind it towards Cas. “Nope.”

Without another word, Cas padded over to Dean and held out a hand towards him. Unsure what was going on, Dean grasped Castiel’s hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. Suddenly he was less than an inch from the sleepy warmth of Cas and Dean’s breath hitched. He was led into Castiel’s bedroom, the door closed behind them, and then Cas pulled him down into the bed.

Dean’s roommate settled in beside him, facing him in the dark and so Dean turned on his right side, still not quite sure what was going on. Cas pulled the covers over them and yawned again.

“I could hear you on the sofa,” Cas said as way of explanation. “You didn’t appear to be very comfortable.”

“Yeah, maybe… if I was shorter,” Dean said lamely, still with no idea what was going on. “Cas, what… what is this?” Dean whispered.

The dark form that what was Castiel audibly swallowed. “This… this is…” Cas swallowed again.

Reason was repeating over and over in Dean’s head that he “shouldn’t shit where he eats”, but he found himself shuffling closer to Castiel’s prone form, drinking in the warmth there and the scent of mint toothpaste. All of Dean’s hard work at taking things slow went out of the window as he drew his left hand to the back of Castiel’s neck and pulled his roommate in, firmly pressing their lips together.

At first Castiel didn’t respond and then he kissed back, placing his right hand on Dean’s hip and pulling the two of them closer together. Bodies warm and firm under the covers, hands slowly wakening and moving until Dean and Cas were wrapped up in each other. If this had been Castiel’s original intention, Dean did not know, but he basked in the hard planes of Castiel’s body and the strength within his arms.

Trying to keep things quiet, Dean was surprised when Cas started to grind against him, but feeling the hardness—he’d only dreamed about it until then—rub against his own filling cock made Dean dizzy with want. He was unsure how far things should go, this was so far from the original plan, so far from anything he had been trying to do.

Mouths parting for air, but still close, Cas whispered between breaths, “I didn’t... know you liked guys.”

Blush rising to his cheeks, Dean stroked the back of Castiel’s neck. “You didn’t ask… I like women too… but… uh…”

The hand on Dean’s hip squeezed him a bit more firmly as Cas said, “But you’ve got... something for your roommate right now?”

Dean chuckled lowly in his throat and licked his lips. “You could say that…” Doubt started to claw its way through Dean. He’d tried to do things so that Cas would be comfortable, able to make a choice. Maybe Cas hadn’t intended on going any further with him and Dean had just pushed himself on him like all those assholes he got messages from.

Sighing, Dean tried to unwind himself from Cas, but his roommate didn’t shift. “Look, maybe… maybe we shouldn’t have done this. I’m sorry for… pushing you, Cas. You hardly know me… we’ve known each other, what a month? And… you’re...”

“Dean,” Cas whispered, tone inviting and warm, “may I confess something to you?”

“Sure.” Though Dean didn’t expect anything but hurt right now. He knew they’d gone too far, too fast. That Cas had realized he didn’t need him, didn’t want him this way and was about to kick him back out onto the couch.

“When I went on my date with Meg, it went pretty well. Trying to say goodbye to her, we ended up in an alley making out.”

Just thinking about Cas kissing anyone else made a tiny flame of envy burn low in Dean’s stomach, but he stayed quiet. He was sure he’d be leaving Castiel’s bed soon enough.

What Dean didn’t expect was for Castiel’s face to get close to his again as he continued, “But as I kissed Meg, I couldn’t stop thinking about someone else. Can you guess who?” Cas practically purred.

“N—no.” Dean gulped.

Instead of answering Dean, Castiel surged forward and started kissing him again, pulling them tight and close. No part of Dean wanted to resist this as Castiel teased his way into his mouth, sliding their tongues together.

Breaking the kiss, mouth still almost touching Dean’s, Cas said, “It was you.”

It was Dean who pressed in this time, kissing and licking his way into Castiel’s waiting mouth, hands pulling at Castiel. Dragging him close enough so they could bump and grind their hips together. How Sam wasn’t waking up, Dean didn’t know, but he didn’t care as Castiel reached a hand down between them and freed both of their straining cocks.

His roommate spat on his hand and then dipped it back below the covers to take them both in hand. Cas jerked them together, first slowly and then faster. Moaning and grunting into each other’s mouths, hips jumping, they fucked each other in Castiel’s tight fist and Dean couldn’t believe that Cas wanted him like this. Couldn’t believe that Cas felt and tasted this good.

Nerves tingling all over, Dean felt the familiar pull low in his stomach, toes curling. He wondered what it would be like to just sink into Cas and lose himself in his roommate. Speculated what it would be like to be pinned against a wall as Cas took him from behind, spearing him and making him beg. He wanted it now and more. To feel Cas in every which way he could. Swallow him and never let go.

Dean had never wanted to be everything to someone else this badly before. Teenage crushes had nothing on his desire for Cas. He had it bad and he wanted it badder.

Castiel’s firm fist that gripped them both sped up a touch more, Cas happily slicking their pre-come over each other with each downwards movement of his hand. Their breaths were ragged as they raced towards release and Dean could feel Cas tensing beside him. Breathy moans shared into each other’s hot, wet mouths made Dean’s balls ache as he pounded towards the precipice of release and then the two of them shuddered, hips spasming a little—release reached.

Coming thick and hot, coating Castiel’s hand and each other, Dean half cried into Castiel’s mouth. Never before had he needed to come so badly and it was still going, hips shuddering and jerking as Cas milked them through what they had both so desperately needed. Mouths finally releasing each other, Castiel’s hand leaving their sensitive cocks, the two of them panted and tried to catch their breath. In the low light of the room, there was no mistaking the motion of Cas bringing up his come covered hand. No mistaking the wet sounds he made as he cleaned his hand, licking their come from his skin.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean whimpered, cock feebly trying to raise again. He turned to get on his back, body needing to stretch and Dean fell out of the bed and onto the living room floor.

Opening his eyes, Dean saw the shadow of the couch loom beside him and felt his warm sticky hand inside his sweats. _It was a dream. It was all a fucking dream!_ Dean screamed inside his head. He wiped his hand off inside his sweats, pulled it out and then curled up under the covers on the cold hard living room floor, quietly sobbing into his arm.


	5. Chapter 5

“Castiel, you’ll be attending the client meeting with me on Wednesday,” Crowley drawled.

Snapping to attention at the mention of his name, Castiel nodded and started making notes.

“Naomi broke her arm over the weekend,” Crowley continued, “and is in no fit state to fly. I don’t need us giving the impression we’re the kind of agency that has mishaps, now that we’ve only just got them to agree to this meeting about potentially working together.”

“Of course,” Castiel answered.

“Ruby will have all the details, see her after this.”

Nodding, Castiel continued to listen more closely as Crowley liaised with some account managers as to the plan of attack for the week. It was their weekly kick-off meeting, there wasn’t anything unexpected happening, just the delivery of a few campaigns, including much of what Meg’s bosses had agreed to.

Things had simmered down at home after the rather eventful Wednesday evening the previous week. Sam had headed back to classes like nothing had happened, though Castiel couldn’t help thinking that maybe Dean’s brother should have stayed a little longer. _Though maybe he felt like he was imposing?_ Castiel pondered as the meeting wrapped up and he headed to Ruby’s desk in their open plan office. He wasn’t quite sure what was happening with John.

“What do you need, Novak?” Ruby asked, voice only just short of a snarl, eyes taking in his dark suit and badly tied tie. He’d still not figured out her general distaste for him, which had been there from the day they met. Castiel supposed he just couldn’t be friends with everyone.

“Mister MacLeod said that I’m to take Naomi’s place on the Seattle trip this week,” Castiel said in as neutral a voice as he could manage.

Ruby rolled her eyes, but she started typing away on her keyboard regardless. She may have some unfathomable grudge against Castiel, but she wasn’t about to piss off Crowley. A few key filled minutes passed while Castiel waited. “Okay, I’ve transferred all of her bookings to you and put everything you need for departures and appointments into your calendar.”

“Thank you,” Castiel said in a level voice. He left Ruby’s desk and headed to his own on the other side of the office space. Senior staff were on the floor above and juniors and admin were on the floor below.

It wasn’t a terrible office by a long stretch; Castiel had worked in dives that had toilets out of order for weeks on end. Dealt with computers that crapped out every ten minutes and greased execs who always seemed to have a new car every twelve months. He’d done his time at shit agencies, but Milton & MacLeod was practically paradise in comparison to everywhere else he’d worked before.

Booting up his own laptop at his desk, Castiel checked the Seattle trip details and realized he’d be spending the night there before flying back on the Thursday morning. He’d tell Dean of course, _but maybe I should suggest… that Sam stays over for the night and they have a chilled out evening together? Properly catch-up?_ Castiel thought and then a smile came to his lips. He liked the idea of doing something nice for Dean, especially as Thanksgiving was looming on the horizon.

Oh sure, there were other nice things Castiel would love to do for Dean, but he still hadn’t puzzled out if Dean even went his way. Castiel hadn’t figured out how to ask Dean and he was worried about scaring him off and needing to find a new roommate. People as clean and friendly as Dean were hard to come by. That had certainly been Castiel’s experience while trying to rent when he’d worked other jobs back in New York City and Chicago.

Pulling out his cell, Castiel sent a message to Dean making the suggestion about Wednesday night. Just after he hit send, a text from Michael pinged onto his cell:

[Michael] You got a date for Thanksgiving yet? Mom won’t shut up.

He’d been meaning to tell Michael that he did have a date for it, but Castiel had been looking for signs that Dean wanted to drop out. Dean had kept mentioning it every now and then, clearly still interested. Swallowing, Castiel finally started putting phase two of his plan into action. He texted Michael back:

[Castiel] Yes, I am bringing my own date. Please assure mother that she will have the opportunity to meet —

Thumbs stilling, Castiel hovered over “h”, but then decided to type “them” instead of “him”. He sent the message and hoped that Michael would not read too much into that. Ready to put his cell down, a reply from Dean came through:

[Dean] Sounds good. We’ll try not wreck the place while you’re gone

Quickly followed by another message:

[Dean] You got plans Saturday for Halloween?

_Hmmmm_ , Castiel thought as he considered the nice, though insistent, text messages he’d had from Meg over the weekend. Asking about having that Saw marathon. _Horror films and Halloween… Maybe Dean would go for it?_

[Castiel] Thinking of having a Saw marathon with Meg. You’re welcome to join

It’s only after Castiel hit send that he thought that perhaps Dean wouldn’t want to spend an evening with Castiel _and_ someone he’s ( _maybe, sorta?_ ) dating. Not that Castiel had managed to figure out if he should be seeing Meg still after what happened on their first date. Cell pinging again, Castiel checked out Dean’s reply:

[Dean] Benny invited me to a party at his. You or you and Meg could come?

Staring at his screen, Castiel tried to figure out what he should do. He hadn’t asked Meg round yet. _But I’m not… I’m not even sure if I’m even that into her. Now. I… I should… The best thing would be to perhaps stop this. Before I do something that hurts both of us_ , Castiel decided. He knew he wouldn’t mind getting to know Meg more as a friend, but he was starting to believe that it couldn’t go much beyond that.

Looking up from his desk, Castiel checked to see if he’d be missed if he left his desk for a moment. There was hardly anyone in, most still in Monday morning meetings, or on conference calls or out seeing clients. Rising from his desk, Castiel took his cell and walked out of the office, heading for a quiet corner by the elevators.

Taking a long deep breath, Castiel found Meg’s number and hit dial. He hoped she wasn’t in her own morning meeting. After a few rings, the call connected.

“Hey, Castiel… everything okay?”

_I can do this_. “Hey, um, I’m not sure how to say this so that it’s all fluffy and nice, and I don’t think it could ever be such, considering what it is, but, um… I think we should just be friends.”

Castiel heard Meg swallow. “Okay, sure. I didn’t think it was going to go much further, to be honest.”

“Thanks for understanding.” Castiel tried not to breathe out in relief too loudly.

“We’re still gonna watch the Saw films, sometime.”

“Sure.”

“I’ll see you around, angel.” Meg hung up and Castiel started heading straight back to his desk. He felt relief. Meg hadn’t screamed down the phone at him, hadn’t tried to get him to stick around.

Desk beckoning, Castiel sat down. He texted Dean:

[Castiel] Party sounds good. Just me.

Looking at the string of messages, Castiel pondered if he should ask about costumes at dinner later that day. He was taking a turn at cooking and it seemed like the perfect dinner conversation.

Finally putting his cell down, Castiel started checking through the dozen emails that had made their way into his inbox since he’d gotten into the office. Over half of them were shitty marketing emails from other companies trying to sell him something, the remainers were actual things, like details about Wednesday and Thursday. A request for him to find a brochure file that had been misplaced and other everyday things.

Mundane, but doable.

_Why did I get into marketing again?_ Castiel pondered as he imagined what work might be like for Dean at Bobby’s auto shop. And his mind wandered over to an image of Dean bent over a car, looking under the hood. Quietly, hoping no one could see, Castiel adjusted himself in his dress slacks.

***

There were few things in the world that Dean couldn’t get his head around. Stood in one corner of Bobby’s main workshop, Dean studied one such thing that Monday morning. In front of him was the engine of a 1964 Pontiac GTO Tri-Power, or rather it should have been. Its owner had brought the car in, having had it towed, saying that something was wrong with the engine.

Fair enough. Maybe there was something up with the V8 that it had tucked away under its orange-red hood. Then the owner, while talking to Dean in the main office had delivered the news that Dean was unable to understand:

“So, I’d taken the engine apart in my living room… can’t quite remember why… anyways, once I’d put it back together over the course of the month and then placed it back in the car: she didn’t run. Nothing.”

The customer, a short, bearded man with graying hair and an unkempt beard had tried the battery, checked the fuel levels, everything. Dean didn’t understand why he had thought it a good idea to dismantle a car engine in the middle of his living room.

“You’re saying that you don’t think you put the engine back together the right way?” Dean had asked.

The short man rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck. “I think the dogs might have buried some parts out back.”

Dean had had to restrain himself from laughing like a madman when he’d heard that. Left alone with the car in the shop, Dean slowly worked through a checklist of engine components while he carefully dismantled the car’s engine again, having found no obvious sign for why the car would not really start. It would splutter and then nothing, so Dean had found before taking the desperate measure of stripping the engine down. Everything looked right before he started, but clearly wasn’t right. He’d listened while Benny had tried the ignition and the engine was what didn’t sound right.

It was kind of hard to focus on the process though. His texts with Cas earlier made him hope that something could maybe happen. He wasn’t sure what to make of Cas changing his plans, but Dean wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe it was foolish to hope that something could happen, but Dean needed something to hope for, because things were not going any better with his dad.

“I need to talk to him, Bobby, get outta my way!” roared John from outside the workshop. Snapping upright, Dean dropped the part he’d just cataloged, and hurried out into the yard.

“He doesn’t need to see you half-cut!” Bobby yelled as Dean reached the pair of them, Bobby standing in front of John. Benny jogged towards them from the direction opposite Dean, scowling.

Rather than back down, John raised his right fist, ready to strike Bobby. Feet moving faster, Dean reached John just as his fist began to fly towards Bobby. Dean pushed his father over and John fell to the ground, sprawled out and then rolled over to glare at Dean as his son straightened up to his full height.

“What the hell?!” Dean yelled at John, having placed himself between John and Bobby.

Hurried footsteps sounded from the front of the shop’s lot and then Pastor Jim appeared, nearly out of breath as he jogged towards Dean and John. “Damnit, John,” Pastor Jim wheezed as he came to a stop by the group.

The pastor straightened himself up, pulling at his white collar a little, and gave Dean an apologetic look. “Sorry, Dean. I didn’t expect him to run off like that when I stopped the car.”

Looking down at his father, Dean frowned. “Why are you here?”

Pastor Jim offered John a hand and John begrudgingly accepted it, allowing himself to be pulled up. John got to his feet, swaying a little as he stood, and continued to glare at Dean. “Jim’s… Jim’s taking me to a rehab facility,” John bit out, voice hoarse with barely concealed anger.

Glancing between his dad and Pastor Jim, Dean quirked an eyebrow. “And you’re here, because…?”

John narrowed his eyes at Dean. “Because I wanted to say sorry… for the other night. Before I go.”

Bobby “humphed” behind Dean, and Dean knew that Bobby was less than impressed with what was going on. Despite that, the man stayed quiet.

Huffing out a breath, Dean shook his head. “It’s Sam you should be apologizing to, not me.”

The fight went out of John’s eyes at that and his shoulders slumped. “Yeah… well your brother ain’t talking to me.”

_And there’s a surprise._ Dean sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck. “I’ll… I’ll let him know.”

John nodded and turned to Pastor Jim. The pastor gently held a hand to John’s back and steered him out of Bobby’s auto shop.

Bobby slapped a hand against Dean’s shoulder. “At least he’s finally getting help.”

Knowing that didn’t make Dean feel any better, because John finally allowing himself to be dragged off to get dry did nothing to undo all the years Sammy and he had suffered because of John losing it. He got it, mom died and that was a really shitty thing, but Dean and Sam needed their dad to be their dad. It was a hollow victory, because so much damage had already been done, leaving Dean and Sam older than their years.

“Yeah,” Dean whispered and headed back to the workshop he’d been holed up in.

***

The stew had been sat on the stove for several hours and was almost done. An aroma of beef and root vegetables had filled the apartment and kept making Castiel’s mouth water. He followed an old family recipe, one passed to him by his late grandmother and he was praying that Dean would like it. Dean had agreed last week to Castiel taking a turn at cooking for the two of them. Castiel was sat in the kitchen, dressed in a pair of old jeans and a comfy t-shirt, and was feeling particularly domestic.

Later than he’d expected, the front door to the apartment opened and Castiel slid off from the stool he’d been sat on. Padding over to Dean, Castiel noticed the distant look in Dean’s eyes straight away. Without thinking, Castiel reached a hand out to Dean and touched his shoulder.

“Dean?” Castiel queried, voice light.

Dean swallowed and Castiel finally saw the redness of Dean’s eyes. He been crying not long ago. His roommate said nothing, just stood beside the kitchen, leather jacket still on. From his hold on Dean’s shoulder, Castiel pulled his roommate into a hug and held him as he started to cry anew.

Tears quickly soaked through the shoulder of Castiel’s t-shirt, but he didn’t push Dean away. He had no idea what was going on with him, but Castiel continued to hold Dean, one hand rubbing his back. Minutes passed, and Castiel rubbed Dean’s back while he continued to cry. Dean’s arms slowly curled around Castiel and held him close.

Even though he didn’t know what had upset Dean, Castiel could make a guess. “Dean… is it your father?”

Sniffing against Castiel’s shoulder, Dean grunted what sounded like a yes and then pulled back a little, wiping his eyes and nose with the back of his hand. Dean drew in a long breath and looked Castiel in the eye. “Dumb bastard finally… let himself be admitted into rehab.”

For a moment, Castiel had thought it was going to be bad news, but hearing that John had gone to rehab was a weirdly pleasant surprise. “That’s great, Dean.”

Dean huffed a quiet laugh and nodded. “Yeah, ‘spose it is.” Sniffing hard, Dean turned his head towards the kitchen. “What’s cooking?”

Castiel might be crap at telling when someone was flirting with him, but he knew that John heading into rehab was a pretty important thing to happen to Dean. But he wasn’t going to prod Dean with questions about how it happened, so he kept the conversation where Dean clearly wanted it to be: away from his dad. “Beef stew. Old family recipe.”

A small smile came to Dean’s lips. “Those are the best kind.” Dean wiped at his face again. “I’ll go get cleaned up. How long until dinner?”

Pulling his cell out of his jeans, Castiel checked the timer on it. “Thirty minutes.”

***

Stuffed from the beef stew, Dean sipped from a can of soda while he and Cas watched some documentary about World War Two submarines. (He would have grabbed a beer, but it felt in poor taste in light of the day’s events.) The documentary was the dullest thing they could have been doing and yet Dean was fine with it. He didn’t need to be wrapped up in something that stressed him out.

They both had their feet up on the coffee table and Dean could feel the heat rolling off of Cas. He wished that there was a distraction he could indulge in, but he doubted Cas would be on board with that. _Probably never will be. Doesn’t need some drama queen for a fucking boyfriend_ , Dean thought to himself, hand tense around his soda.

It had been tough calling Sam to tell him what had happened earlier, but Dean’s little brother had taken the news in his stride. Sam lightened up when Dean proposed he stay over on Wednesday night. He was still Dean’s little brother through and through—no amount of growth spurts and college education was gonna ruin Sam’s enjoyment of watching old wrestling videos or blitzing through all of the _Indiana Jones_ films.

“So, uh… Is Sam gonna stay over Wednesday?” Cas asked, pulling Dean away from his thoughts.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, he’s all for it.”

Castiel’s left hand landed on Dean’s right and Cas patted him and sending sparks along his skin. “It’ll be good for you. For both of you.”

Mouth suddenly dry, Dean nodded, hope unfurling inside of him. “Cas,” Dean rasped, “why’s Meg not coming with you Sat?”

A thoughtful look stole over Cas. “Because not long after your text, we decided to just be friends.”

Snapping his full attention to Cas, Dean was vaguely aware that their hands were still touching as he said, “But you were getting on so well.”

Cas shrugged and finally withdrew his hand, Dean instantly missed the contact. “There is… someone else.”

Their eyes met across the couch and for a moment Dean thought that Cas could have been talking about him. But before Dean could press further, his roommate got up from the couch and gave an incredibly exaggerated yawn and stretch.

“Sorry, I need to head to bed. G’night.” Cas padded around the coffee table and headed towards his bedroom. His roommate’s sudden retreat did nothing to reduce Dean’s suspicions that maybe, _just maybe_ , Cas could be into him.

Left alone in their living room, Dean wondered how he should talk to Cas. Because if there’s one thing Dean Winchester always found it difficult to do, it was to talk about his own feelings.


	6. Chapter 6

“Hey, wanna a drink?” asked a man, tufty blond hair and startling blue eyes hiding something far rougher underneath. The man had an edge to him that made the hairs on the back of Castiel’s neck stand up as he waited to be served by a member of bar staff.

Crowley and one of the account managers—a short brunette called Becky Rosen—were sat some ways away in a private booth with their new client—the CEO of a Seattle founded coffee chain called Novajava—Aaron Bass. He was expected back at their post deal celebrations.

Castiel gave the stranger a polite smile. “I’m fine, really, thank you.”

“Sorry to keep you waiting sir, what can I get you?” asked a barman who had reached Castiel.

Turning his attention to the barman, Castiel smiled and asked for a craft beer that Mr Bass had recommended to him. He could have ordered at the booth, but Castiel had wanted to stretch his legs a little and get away from the sickeningly sweet smell of the cocktail pitcher that Crowley had ordered for the party. He’d missed what it was precisely, but Castiel could tell by its smell that he did not want to be a part of that and whatever hangover Crowley was going to have in the morning.

“Has anyone told you before that you’re incredibly good looking?” The blond man’s eyes ate up Castiel. He shivered and willed the barman to hurry up with pouring his order.

Rather than deign to reply, Castiel ignored him and hoped the man got the hint.

Instead the man creeped closer. “And that ass, tight,” he whispered so that only Castiel could hear him.

The barman reappeared with Castiel’s drink and Castiel added it to Crowley’s tab, before ignoring the blond haired man and rushing back to his table with his glass of beer. Or as quickly as he could without sloshing the amber liquid everywhere. Sliding back into the private booth, Crowley looked up to Castiel with a raised eyebrow as Castiel returned to his seat on Crowley’s left. Mr Bass was on Crowley’s right.

Placing his beer on the table in front of him, Castiel was unable to hide the way his hands were shaking. Crowley let Mr Bass and Becky converse for a moment as he turned his attention to Castiel.

“Something wrong?” Crowley asked, voice its usual husky Britishness.

Taking a look outside of their booth, Castiel saw the blond haired man and flipped his gaze back to his boss. “Just some creep at the bar, sir.”

Crowley leaned past Castiel and got a look at the man before sitting back. “Not your type?”

Licking his lips and picking up his beer, Castiel said, “Not exactly, no.” _No, sexually aggressive has never been my type_ , Castiel thought before realizing he’d just outed himself.

His boss gave him a considered look. “You… like guys?” he asked in a voice slightly higher than normal. As if he had this image of Castiel like he was some choir boy angel who was all innocence and candy floss.

A blush formed across Castiel’s cheeks. Mr Bass and Rosen weren’t listening to their conversation at all. It’s not like Castiel thought that Crowley MacLeod would fire him on the spot if he came out to him there and then, but he didn’t exactly feel comfortable with the idea of handing over such a significant detail of his personal life. But there was a look in the man’s eyes that told Castiel that Crowley would persist. If not there and then, then later, perhaps with an even bigger audience.

“I like… men and women,” Castiel answered quietly and finally took a sip of his beer. The cool, malty bitterness spread across Castiel’s tongue and he tried not to start panicking.

Crowley gave Castiel a knowing smile and sipped a glass of cocktail before smacking his lips and giving Castiel a companionable pat on the back. “Best way to be,” he said and left it at that.

They had a 6am flight back, and thankfully Crowley and Mr Bass called it an early night. Back in his hotel room, Castiel wondered how Dean’s evening with Sam was going. He felt a little bad about being useless when Dean told him about his dad on the Monday. He’d wanted to do more, but he didn’t want to do anything that either of them would regret and Castiel had reached a point where he wanted to offer comfort that was more than just a warm meal, a shoulder to cry on or some words of encouragement.

Only talking to Dean would help give Castiel the answers he needed. Dean was still determined to go to Benny’s Halloween party, perhaps Castiel could ask there.

***

“No ticket,” Indy gritted out on the TV screen after throwing a Nazi off a zeppelin, and Dean chuckled, even though he’d seen the film so many times over the years that it was a wonder he could still laugh at it.

His brother leaned forward and picked up the cooling cup of decaf that Dean had brewed. There’d been some silent agreement between the two of them that they didn’t want beers. The word hadn’t even been mentioned, they’d just known neither wanted to be around booze right then.

“You coming to Benny’s party?” Dean asked, picking up his own coffee.

Sam shrugged. “Dunno,” he replied and took a long sip of coffee.

“It’s cool if you’ve got something else to be at. Some hot date with Jess to a party on campus.”

The blush that came to Sam’s cheeks made Dean chuckle. _Bingo_. “You got plans, Sammy?” Dean persisted.

Putting his mug down, Sam turned to look at Dean. “No...”

“Well, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Dean said with a grin and turned his attention back to the film as Sam achieved full bitchface. A look of incredulity and murderous anger.

Knowing that Sam wouldn’t be coming to Benny’s Halloween party, Dean considered what he should wear. And then he wondered who or what Castiel was going to dress up as. Pulling out his cell, Dean half kept his attention on the film as he texted Cas. Just as he hit send, Dean realized the time. It would be midnight and Seattle and Cas was probably trying to get some sleep before his flight back.

Cringing as he put his cell down, Dean hoped that Cas wouldn’t hate him too much for the message. Thinking about Saturday had Dean’s stomach feeling a little tight and fluttery at the same time. He had decided to look forward to the party in light of how craptastic the week had been, but he was beginning to think that it would be the perfect opportunity to come clean with Cas. Even if the idea of talking to Cas about what he’d been feeling was something that sent his heart rate up and made his palms all sweaty.

What was clear was that Dean was struggling with keeping his feelings under wraps any longer and he’d offer to move out if Cas didn’t like the news. Dean was certain of that. He didn’t want to make the guy’s life awkward, it was bad enough his father had crashed through Castiel’s life already. But if Cas did say he was interested then it would make Thanksgiving a hell of a lot more interesting.

Dean’s cell vibrated and he picked it up. _Damnit_ , Dean thought, seeing Castiel’s name on his screen. He swiped his phone open and checked the message from Cas.

[Cas] I had been giving this some thought. Perhaps we could go as Dr Frankenstein and his monster. I could be the monster and you could be Frankenstein?

It took several read throughs for Dean to realize that Castiel had proposed going in costumes that went together. Like a couple would. And that Cas was not angry in the least. He swallowed hard.

“You okay there?” Sam asked and Dean nodded.

“Yeah fine, Sammy,” Dean replied, feeling slightly dazed. Dean typed out a reply to Cas.

[Dean] Sounds good. I know just the place to pick up what we need. You don’t have any allergies do you?

The reply back came quickly.

[Cas] No allergies. And sure. Let me know what I owe you after.

Heart thudding in his chest, Dean texted back:

[Dean] Awesome. See you tomorrow. G’night.

The reply from his roommate was quick:

[Cas] Looking forward to being back. Good night Dean.

Putting his cell down on the coffee table, Dean finished up his decaf coffee. He was grinning.

“Good news?” Sam asked and then yawned.

Nodding, Dean put his mug down. “Yeah, you could say that.”

***

Saturday rolled around quickly enough and before Castiel knew what was happening it was coming up to 7 in the evening and Dean was applying a green, slightly teal, body paint over his hands, neck, chest, lower legs, arms and face. All Castiel wore was a pair of old gray sweats. There were a pair of bolts that would go either side of Castiel’s neck, fixed on a band that Dean had already painted. The brush’s bristles felt soothing and tickly at the same time, and it was taking all of Castiel’s patience not to screech and laugh from the sensation.

He’d been dozing the night that Dean had texted him about Halloween outfits, but he was fine with being woken up. It was nice that Dean had been thinking of him in spite of everything that had happened that week. And Dean seemed more cheerful, which may have had something to do with a phone call from Pastor Jim earlier that day, updating Dean on his father. Dean had told Castiel that John Winchester was sticking through the withdrawal process and that Pastor Jim’s contact had high hopes that his father would be out in time for Christmas.

“Okay, that bit’s done,” Dean announced, stepping away from Castiel. If the pupils in Dean’s eyes looked a little blown, Castiel wasn’t going to say anything. Dean hadn’t changed yet and was in an old pair of sweats and a black t-shirt. He shifted awkwardly as he moved around.

“Thank you, Dean.”

“No problem. Alright, while the rest of you dries, I’ll try to get the detail in on your face.” Dean licked his lips.

“I could do that if you want to get on with getting changed into your own costume?” Castiel suggested.

Dean swallowed slightly and Castiel tracked the movement of his roommate’s Adam’s apple. “Nah, it’s cool. Might as well finish what I’ve started.”

“If you’re sure?”

Dean gave a quick nod, and picked up a fine brush and a little palette of various colored face paint. For a brief moment, Castiel had a flash of Dean doing this for his little brother in years past and Castiel couldn’t help the smile that it brought to his lips. There was no mistaking that Dean really cared about the people in his life.

“Now hold still and try not to smile,” Dean asked, though with a hint of regret in his voice. Castiel relaxed his face and stayed completely still as Dean wetted the brush in a small pot of water, dabbed a color onto the brush and then brought the bristles to Castiel’s face.

Heart rate building as Dean worked, Castiel worried Dean would hear it. Dean was so impossibly close, all Castiel would have to do is lean ever so slightly forward to give Dean a kiss, he was that close. Freckles clear and green eyes ready to devour Castiel any second. The brush applied deeper colors to the contours of Castiel’s face, adding back definition that the other paint had taken away in being applied.

There was a tenderness behind the movement of Dean’s brush that Castiel couldn’t remember anyone giving to him before. Each stroke underscored the increasing feeling Castiel had that suggested that maybe, just maybe Dean liked him in the way that Castiel kept thinking of his roommate. He couldn’t imagine anyone else’s roommate doing this for them. And actually, the slow strokes went beyond anything he could imagine Dean doing for a family member.

At some point the two of them started gravitating slowly closer and closer together. The brush hadn’t touched Castiel’s face for several minutes. Castiel could feel Dean’s breath on his face and his roommate’s eyes were fixed on him. There was nowhere for Castiel to go.

Dean’s cellphone started loudly playing an old rock track that Castiel distantly recognized and then the spell was broken.

“Sorry, it’s Sam,” Dean apologized for no reason, backing away from Castiel and putting the paint things down. Castiel watched as Dean answered the call, walking out of Castiel’s bedroom.

Letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in, Castiel walked over to a mirror on his wardrobe and looked at Dean’s handiwork. He’d done a really good job.

***

“What did Sam want?” Cas asked as the two of them sat in the back of a cab on the way to Benny’s place. There was a crate of beers between them on the back seat.

It took Dean a moment to remember what Cas was referring to. “Oh, just some advice about his girlfriend.” Dean fidgeted with the thick, black rubber gloves on his lap. His mind traveled back to the apartment and painting Castiel’s torso. Things had almost gotten embarrassing, but Dean was sure that Cas hadn’t noticed that lapse.

Being sat beside Castiel in the cab was distracting for Dean. Dean was covered up in a high collar, white lab coat and a pair of intact black dress slacks, a set of goggles perched on his head. Castiel wore a tattered dress shirt, buttons missing and the front open; sleeves partially shredded; black dress slacks hacked off and torn below the knees—he was like a super sexy Frankenstein’s monster. _Maybe we should have just gone as Frank-N-Furter and Rocky… Cas in short shorts… oiled up…_ Dean considered what the good doctor would have to wear and a blush rose to his cheeks; he swallowed and tried to discreetly hide the interest his dick was suddenly showing.

“Do you know how many people will be at the party?” Cas suddenly asked, voice sounding a little tense, like the guy had only just realized that other people would be there.

“Maybe something like forty? He’s got a big place.”

A resigned nod mechanically worked its way out of Cas. Dean, without thinking, reached across and patted Cas on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll be able to find somewhere to chill out.”

The cab reached the converted warehouse loft that was Benny’s apartment. Having paid for their cab, Dean led the way in and up. Benny, dressed as Count Dracula, was welcoming guests when Dean and Cas got to his apartment. Cheesy pop and classic rock from a variety of decades played, there were fake cobwebs, skeletons and bats all over the apartment, along with a hazardous amount of carved and lit pumpkins.

“Dean! Glad you coul’ make it, cher,” said Benny, pulling Dean into a fierce hug before letting go. “And this is…?”

“My roommate, Cas—sorry, Castiel.” Dean dipped his head a little as Cas placed the crate of beers on the floor for a moment.

Cas smiled and held out an off-color corpse like hand to Benny. “Cas is fine. Thanks for hosting the party.”

Benny grinned and shook Castiel’s hand with noticeable strength. “Well, why don’t you grab some drinks—they’re just straight ahead on the far wall. There’s some ice buckets for the beers.” Benny let Castiel’s hand go.

“What would you like, Dean?” Cas asked as he started towards the drinks table.

“A whiskey... would be great,” Dean stuttered out as he got a particularly good view of Castiel’s nipples through his wrecked shirt. For some reason it hadn’t taken much to convince Cas to go with this costume idea—all he’d told Dean was something muttered about family nativity plays and Jesus and that was that.

“I’ll let you two catch up a moment, then.” Cas hauled the beers up from the floor and stalked into Benny’s apartment.

Dean watched Castiel head off with the beers and his eyes drifted to his roommate’s ass, which he was suddenly drawn away from by the audible “ahem” that Benny gave him. Looking up at his friend, Dean smiled weakly, knowing he’d been caught.

“So,” Benny started.

“So…” Dean tried to smile a little harder.

Benny crossed his arms and frowned at Dean. “He know you’re that into him? Or are you keeping him in the dark? ‘Cause that’s no way to treat a person.”

Deflating a little at Benny’s reprimand, Dean stole a glance at Cas as he navigated the drinks table. “I know, alright. Bobby’s already told me off.”

“But you still haven’t said a thing?” Benny shot back, a knowing look in his eyes.

Licking his lips, Dean squared up to his friend. “Fine. I’ll say something tonight. But you better be ready for gross sobbing if it all goes wrong and I suddenly don’t have a roof over my head.”

Uncrossing his arms, Benny nodded. “Deal.”

***

The longer he was in his costume, the more Castiel felt rather too undressed and vulnerable. Sure, he’d been to events as a marketer that were bigger than this, but none where people could snatch glimpses of his nipples covered in green-teal paint. And it was a task and-a-half not to fidget with the bolts on his neck and the band that positioned them.

Dean, seeming to sense Castiel’s increasing anxiety, stayed by his side, even when he was asked to dance. And Dean had some choice offers. Or at least that was what Castiel first believed, but as the evening wore on and the two of them migrated to a loveseat that was set back from the dance floor, Castiel was beginning to wonder if something else was afoot.

A distant buzzing sensation rose over the pulsing beat of the speakers Benny was using.

“Cas, I think you got a message,” Dean half-shouted over the music, pointing at Castiel’s left pocket, which was the only intact pocket on his outfit and currently wedged between Dean and himself.

Wondering who it could be, Castiel lifted his ass a little to try and make access to the phone, which earned him a smirk from Dean. Finally he retrieved his cell and checked the new text message:

[Michael] Mom’s just invited Pamela Barnes to Thanksgiving. She’s here at the parents’ Halloween gathering.

“Fuck,” Castiel muttered.

Dean must have read Castiel’s lips, a concerned shout asking, “What’s wrong?”

Thrusting the cell at Dean, Castiel left Dean take it from him as he buried his face in his hands. _Trust mother to not believe that I already had a date. And Pamela? She hates me. What the hell is mom thinking?!_

“Who’s Pamela?” Dean shouted.

Sitting upright again, Castiel turned to Dean and shouted, “Childhood tormentor and trust fund lovely. You still want to come with me, right?”

It was obvious to Castiel that he would have to send a message to his mother at Thanksgiving. That it was time for her to stop trying to meddle in his private life. So what if she had been absent from raising him for the most part, that didn’t give her the right to try and control his private life now that he was an adult, supporting himself.

“I still don’t see what the problem is,” Dean yelled over the music.

“My mom is trying to set me up with Pamela!” Castiel replied.

A look of understanding dawned on Dean’s face and he licked his lips, nodding, goggles on top of his head sliding a little. “Sure, yeah I’ll still go with you…”

Castiel was about to say thanks, but it sounded like Dean had more to say. In the dim light of Benny’s apartment, Castiel noticed that there was an intensity to the way Dean was looking at him. Distracted from his anxiety by Dean’s shining lips and searching eyes, Castiel leaned in closer to Dean and Dean leaned closer towards Castiel. In their own little bubble, suddenly everything felt right and Castiel decided to push past his past doubts.

“Cas?” Dean asked quietly, unheard over the din of the music. Still Castiel understood he’d said his nickname.

Cell forgotten, Castiel closed the remaining distance and gently pressed his lips to Dean’s. At first Dean was just a wall of unmoving warmth and then his mouth came to life, pushing back, followed by shaking hands working their way into the shreds of Castiel’s shirt. They kissed and all Castiel thought about was Dean, no one else, as he finally nudged Dean’s mouth open and deepened the kiss.

Once they finally broke for air, Castiel stared into Dean’s impossibly beautiful emerald eyes, which sparkled with the reflection of a disco ball that someone had just dragged out. Dean passed Castiel’s cell back and the two of them rose in unison as Castiel’s shaking digits booked an Uber.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean was practically tripping over Cas while he unlocked the door to their apartment. It was difficult to focus on motor coordination when he kept letting Cas steal all of his breath. Fumbling their way into the living room, hands skirting over each other, smears of green paint rubbed over white shirts, Cas finally broke the kiss and looked at the mess his costume had become.

“I… need to shower,” Cas announced in an annoyed voice.

“I don’t mind,” Dean suggested, but Cas shook his head.

“It’s gonna get everywhere.”

And that was that, or least Dean thought it was before Cas turned away from him and proceeded to strip out of his shirt, slacks and underwear right in front of him. Leaving the clothes on the floor, Castiel marched to his room, but didn’t close his bedroom door as he started the shower in his en suite. The sight of Castiel’s firm naked ass walking away from him made Dean whine as his achingly hard cock pushed against the confines of his clothes, smearing pre-come across his tip with the slightest movement.

Standing in the living room, looking at the pile of clothes, it took Dean a moment to comprehend that Cas was into him. That after avoiding taking action for weeks, Cas had kissed him first and was definitely after more than just that.

“Dean… I can’t quite reach it all on my back,” called Cas in a voice that suggested him needing more than just a back rub.

Hurrying to take off his own clothes, Dean stripped out of his costume, leaving it discarded with Castiel’s. Powering into Castiel’s bathroom, Dean approached the shower with his cock bobbing in front of him.

“Cas?” Dean asked.

His roommate pulled back the shower curtain, leaving a gap big enough for Dean to step through. There were streaks of the monster paint running in rivulets down Castiel’s bare chest; the neck bolts were gone and Castiel was as hard as Dean.

“The water’s lovely,” said Castiel, voice a little huskier than usual.

Accepting the invitation, Dean stepped into the shower and pulled the curtain close behind him. Cas didn’t seem to care much for the paint that remained on him as he pulled Dean to him and started to make out with him again. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas and opened his mouth to the man, letting Cas wetly lick into him, wrestling their tongues against each other. Pulling Cas a little closer, Dean moaned into his roommate’s mouth as their cocks seemed to line up with each other, each movement dragging them in a just right way.

Reaching a hand out for some soap, Dean worked to actually clean Cas off while stealing kisses and as much physical contact he could get away with and still be washing Cas. Castiel’s mouth was desperately hungry for him, as if the initial contact at the party had started something much, much bigger. Unleashing a wave of desires and need that had been hidden from Dean up until then.

Makeup and body paint gone, Castiel pulled Dean to him and reached down between them. Hand grasping around their hard cocks and making Dean keen as he swiped a thumb over their heads, Castiel pumped their lengths together once, twice—three times, mouth eating up all of Dean’s pretty moans. Academically, Castiel understood why he had held back all this time, but now that he had Dean with him, naked and every little sound begging Castiel to take things further.

“What do you want, Dean?” Castiel asked, breaking their kiss and stilling his hand.

“You,” Dean panted.

In answer, Castiel let go of their aching lengths. Turning off the shower, Castiel eased Dean out and grabbed some towels. He roughly dried the two of them off and then eased Dean back into his bedroom. Flipping on a light, Castiel pushed Dean down onto his bed and climbed on top of Dean.

Stretching over Dean, Castiel grabbed a bottle of lube from his dresser and poured a little into his right hand. He placed the bottle down and let his cock rub over Dean’s torso and hips—Dean shamelessly bucking towards the contact—as he settled back down over Dean, putting his weight on his left hand. Dean whimpered as Castiel took the both of them in hand again, the noise going straight to Castiel’s cock.

Hand stroking the both of them in long languid strokes, Castiel stole his way into Dean’s mouth, tongue mirroring the movement of his hand. There was still the faint trace of whiskey every time Castiel’s tongue wiped over Dean’s and Castiel chased that slight burn of oaky liquid. After a point, Castiel was chasing a memory, but he didn’t care as their tongues sloppily passed over each other, adding to the clamour of blood through their bodies.

Dean’s hands wandered over Castiel’s back, fingertips featherlight on his shoulder blades, making Castiel’s body quake with tiny trembles as he continued to fist them. Adding a slight twist on the upwards stroke, Castiel pulled off of Dean’s mouth and sucked down on his collarbone instead, lapping and licking at the sweat gathering there. Dean’s fingers dug into Castiel’s shoulder blades and he half mewled as Castiel worked a hickey into his collarbone so that everyone would know that Dean was his. He wanted everyone to know. Everyone to hear.

Maybe someone in the apartment under theirs threw a shoe at the ceiling below them, but Castiel didn’t care as he and Dean began to fuck into his hand in earnest, hips eagerly shifting in unison. Feeling a low pull from inside himself, release getting near, Castiel gave Dean’s collarbone one final lick and then fixed their mouths together once more. Long, freckled body tensing beneath him, Castiel hummed into Dean’s mouth as his roommate came with a muffled shout.

The hot wetness of Dean’s come slicked Castiel’s hand further and Castiel moaned happily as finally the force of his own orgasm hit, vision whiting out for just a moment. Kiss turning into a series of small kisses, calming and claiming at the same time, Castiel finally rolled off of Dean and laid on his back as he caught his breath. Sweet hot kisses from Dean fluttered across Castiel’s left shoulder.

Dean let out a long breath and as he spoke, Castiel could hear the man’s smile, “We’re gonna need another shower.”

***

A warm arm wrapped itself around Dean’s torso and pulled him closer, edging him out of his sleep. Eyes lazily blinking open, morning light streaming through half closed blinds, Dean remembered that he wasn’t in his bed—he was in Castiel’s. The knowledge made him feel a little giddy and Dean couldn’t quite believe last night had happened, but that was definitely Castiel’s hand outside the sheets, possessively resting on his stomach.

Dean would have happily remained in Castiel’s arms, despite his usual rules on being the little spoon, but he really needed to go pee. Gingerly easing Castiel’s arm off of himself, Dean slowly scooted out of the bed and tiptoed into the bathroom.

Having relieved himself, Dean went back to his own room, grabbed some jeans, a t-shirt, sneakers and an old zip-up hoodie, and started thinking about breakfast. He scribbled a note to Cas and left it on his bedside table and then picked up his wallet, keys and cell and headed out into the chill of the November morning.

On their street there was a nice little diner that Dean had discovered during his first week at the apartment. It was owned by some guy named Garth, who could get rather talkative if you let him, but was mostly harmless. Garth had inherited the place from his grandpappy, apparently, and decided to drop out of dentistry school to run it.

But what kept Dean coming back was the pie. Apple, cherry, pecan and pumpkin pies the likes of which Dean hadn’t tasted since he was ten. Reaching the red door, peering through the portholes, he saw there was already a small crowd gathered inside. Dean headed in and went straight to the counter. Garth spotted him straight away and walked over while Dean eyed the pies he’d baked fresh that day. There was a general air of a pleasant Sunday morning in the diner, people going about their business but in no rush—several families were breakfasting there looking like they were ready to head to church after; people who’d been out all night and wanted something to eat before hitting the hay, costumes still on, though disheveled; locals who didn’t do lie ins.

“Hey, Dean, what can I get ya?” Garth asked enthusiastically.

Dean glanced at the pies again. “I’ll take two black coffees, no sugar. Uh, one breakfast bagel and one breakfast bagel with extra sausage. Plus can I snag an entire cherry pie?”

“Sure thing.” Garth rattled off the bill while he started to fetch Dean’s order and soon enough Dean was back at the apartment, food in hand.

Cas was still asleep when Dean returned. He took his shoes off, grabbed plates, some creamer and sugar, and brought everything bar the pie into Castiel’s room. Taking a step towards the bed, the floor creaked and Cas turned over, levelling one barely open eye on Dean.

“Dean Winchester… are you bringing me breakfast in bed?” Castiel asked and then yawned as he shifted into a sitting position. His hair was messed up in that way that Dean loved and he was still topless. _Hmmm, maybe food could wait…_ Dean looked at the food. _Nah_.

“Just shut up and eat it.” Dean grinned and set the plates down on the bed with the food, while the coffees and everything for doctoring them ended up on the bedside table.

Castiel’s first bite of his bagel included a long, happy moan. He chewed, swallowed and said, “Thank you, Dean. This is excellent.”

Blushing, Dean looked up from his own bagel and swallowed. “It’s nothing. Really. Though I might have picked up a little something for later too.”

“Oh?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes until Castiel asked, “Got any plans for today?”

Dean realized there was nothing he had to do. “Nope.”

Cas gave a mischievous smile. “Then I’ve got just the game for you.”

Once they had finished their breakfast, Cas dragged Dean back into his shower. What started off as washing each other down, quickly evolved into something else as Dean braced a hand against the shower tiles while Cas carefully kneeled in front of him and took Dean’s cock into his mouth, nursing at the tip while water cascaded around them.

Face flush from arousal and the steam of the shower, Dean moaned as Cas worked him over, his roommate’s mouth sealed around his glans, tongue quivering over his slit. Pressing and pulsating in a tantalizing way that made it difficult for Dean to stay upright. Right hand on the tiles and one hand in Castiel’s hair, Dean stroked and praised Cas.

“Fuck… Cas… If you’d said you were hungry… I woulda bought more food.”

At that Cas sucked the whole of Dean down, throat fluttering around Dean’s hard length and tore an orgasm out of Dean that had him coming down the back of Castiel’s throat. Helping Dean ride out his orgasm, Cas finally climbed to his feet and allowed Dean to taste himself. It was the filthiest shower Dean had ever had.

And it only got filthier as Dean returned the favor. Castiel hadn’t been expecting Dean to get down on his knees in the shower, water pummelling his back as he dragged Castiel’s already hard cock into his mouth. Swirling and tasting him, tongue curious and eager, making Castiel gasp into the falling water, eyes closed and head swimming with pleasure. Having teased Dean to perfection already, he didn’t last long when Dean started to suck on him in earnest, head bobbing up and down.

Slightly dazed, Castiel couldn’t believe that what had seemed almost impossible just twenty four hours earlier had happened. Neither of them had declared what they were or what they meant to each other, but the shy, pleased smile Dean gave Castiel as he let Castiel taste himself told Castiel that it was more than just fuckbuddies—that a genuine, intimate relationship was forming between them.

With both of them satisfied, Castiel guided them to cleaning up and they were soon both dressed again. Castiel ended up in one of Dean’s band t-shirts, a black Led Zeppelin one. Dean had passed it to him and he’d thought: _why not?_

Heading into the living room, Castiel eyed the laptop he kept near the television and then started setting it up on the coffee table. Running a HDMI cable from the laptop to the television, Castiel was aware of Dean watching him.

“I thought we were gonna play a game?” Dean asked from the couch.

Castiel nodded and finished plugging in the HDMI cable in the side of the television. “We are, but this one is best played on a PC.” Hitting the on button on the laptop, Castiel then went and found his wireless PC game controller and handed it to Dean.

“You haven’t even told me what I’m playing,” Dean remarked, taking hold of the controller.

The PC finished booting, Castiel logged into it and booted up the game he wanted to give Dean a chance of playing. “It’s _Skyrim_ ,” Castiel explained, “a roleplaying sort of game.”

“Never heard of it,” Dean announced, looking at the controller with a raised eyebrow.

Dramatic music thundered through the television’s speakers and Castiel almost laughed at the way Dean’s head snapped to attention as he gazed at the screen. Mist wafted over a black background as the music built up.

“Hit start,” Castiel suggested, sitting down beside Dean. Apart from moaning about how long it took to start playing, Dean seemed to start enjoying the game when he could finally pick the kind of character he wanted to play as.

“Okay, so I think I’m gonna be a female Dark Elf. That whole fire resistance thing sounds handy. Do I pick whether I, dunno, wanna be a thief or a sorcerer or something right now?”

“Nope. I thought you said you hadn’t played before?”

Dean ducked his head. “I haven’t, but it’s reminding me a little of D&D.”

“You played Dungeons & Dragons?”

“Yeah, Sammy and I use to when he was younger. Y’know, help take his mind off of things. Use to play at the house… and then Ellen let us play at the bar,” Dean replied, voice a little softer, hurt bleeding in.

“I see,” Castiel said lamely, a slight pain in his chest. “Well… to answer your question: you kinda had to pick roles in the previous games, but not in this one. It’s a bit more freeform.” Before Dean could say anything else, Castiel wrapped an arm around the top of Dean’s shoulders and settled in to watch him play.

Dean called his character Tamara and Castiel thought nothing of the fact that he was playing as a _female_ Dark Elf. When it came to games like this, Castiel normally chose to play a female character himself. It just seemed more interesting than playing as his actual gender.

Though choosing to play as a female character had little effect on the events of a game like Skyrim, but in something like the more science fiction based _Mass Effect_ games gender choice was even more interesting. The contrast of having a woman in such a strong lead role placed within a military scenario—there were few other games that offered such a break narratively from similar representations in the real world.

But this was Skyrim, and Dean had just encountered his first dragon.

“What the hell?!” Dean exclaimed as the dragon bashed its head through a wall in a watch tower, breathed in a column of fire and then flew off. Curled up beside Dean as he seriously got into the game made Castiel feel good in a way that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Like a piece of him had been missing up until that point.

Dean paused after he completed the first part of the game—once Tamara was able to traverse the rest of the game’s world—and tilted his head to kiss Castiel. The kiss was light and warm, a thank you, before Dean turned back to the game once more and asked out loud if he should follow the marker on the overhead display.

***

Come sunset, Dean still hadn’t tired of playing Skyrim, especially with the way that Cas cuddled up to him, and the way the two of them would kiss softly or passionately every now and then. After the intensity of what had happened the previous night and that morning, it was nice to feel that he didn’t have to be putting out all the time. The starts of previous relationships had mostly felt like they’d been a whirlwind of sex and pretty much nothing else.

Dean had never given himself the chance to put on the brakes or allow someone to put the brakes on for him. Experiencing it for the first time, Dean loved the way that they were able to be attentive to each other, but also keeping things simmering along. They were always one makeout session away from ending up back in bed and that was fine. Though things had almost gone that way when Dean insisted on feeding Castiel some of the cherry pie he’d bought that morning.

In fact there was still half of the pie left and Dean was starting to feel hungry. A quick dinner followed by some pie sounded like a good idea in his head. Putting down the controller, Dean kissed Cas on the cheek and asked, “Dinner?”

“Mmmm, sounds good.” Cas stood and stretched, his back audibly popping.

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean said in alarm. He got up and stood behind Cas to rub his back. The man’s muscles were tense and knotted. “Okay, you can sit back down, I need to sort this out before food.”

“It’s nothing really, Dean, I’m fine,” said Cas, trying to dissuade Dean.

“Fine my ass,” Dean grumbled.

“Well, it is a pretty fine ass,” Cas shot back.

The heat that rose to Dean’s cheeks was almost instant, but he didn’t let up. “Sit your ass down.”

Cas laughed and sat back down on the couch at an angle so that Dean could slot in behind him and continue working at his knotted muscles. Getting in behind Castiel’s back, Dean returned to work and soon Cas was sighing and moaning, the noises made Dean flush even more.

Just as Dean was about to call it quits and then makeout heavily with Cas, his cell started to ring on the table. Reluctantly, Dean pulled away from Cas and picked the cell up to find that Pastor Jim was calling him. Dean answered the phone.

“Hey, is everything okay?” Dean asked.

There was a long drawn in breath from the other end of the line before Pastor Jim replied, “Dean, your father’s been admitted to hospital.”


	8. Chapter 8

Gray and white seemed to be the color scheme of choice in the hospital waiting room that did nothing to make the concerned well feel better. Castiel was sat on the edge of his seat, body bunched up, hands between his knees while he waited with Dean and Sam. The three of them were sat together with Dean in the middle.

“How far did Pastor Jim say dad got until they found him?” Sam asked again.

Dean sighed. “Five miles from the center.”

They all knew what John Winchester walking from the rehab center in his condition had meant. The doctor had already run through it with Dean and Sam. John had been too dehydrated, having not fully recovered from the first three days of withdrawal. No one had managed to get out of John why he’d walked out of the center and put himself at risk. Sam had muttered something about probably going to try and find a drink, but Castiel wasn’t so sure.

“I need something to eat, either of you want something?” Dean asked, getting up from his seat, shoulders hunched.

“Power bar or whatever?” Sam asked. “And a soda?”

“Got it. What about you, Cas?” Dean faced Castiel directly and gave him an encouraging smile.

Castiel’s stomach rumbled. “Same as Sam is fine with me.”

“I’ll see what I can rustle up.” Dean stalked off, leaving Sam alone with Castiel.

“So…” Sam started, turning in his seat to face Castiel. “You and my brother.”

_How the hell?!_ Castiel mirrored Sam and faced him. “Sorry?”

Sam smirked and ran a hand through his dark, short wavy hair. “I got a message from Benny that he’d seen you two “involved” with each other at his party… oh and how the two of you had made a sudden hasty retreat before he had the chance to show off his center piece: a jack o'lantern cake he’d baked and decorated himself.”

“Benny bakes?” Castiel asked, surprised at the revelation.

“Hey, we’re talking about you. You and my brother.” Sam jabbed a finger in Castiel’s direction.

Squirming in his seat a little, Castiel looked around the waiting room, trying to find something, anything, that he could distract Sam with. The dullest waiting room in the world had nothing.

“There’s nothing to tell,” Castiel replied.

“That’s far from what Benny said in his text.” Sam crossed his arms and stared at Castiel, like his stern gaze alone would make Castiel talk.

Rolling his eyes, Castiel stood up and took a few steps away from Sam. “Look, Dean and I haven’t discussed… what we are yet,” Castiel admitted and then instantly regretted it when Sam gave him a knowing smirk.

“You break his heart and I will break your legs. We understand each other, Cas?” The look Sam gave Castiel said he was completely serious about the physical violence.

Castiel gave a short nod and crossed his arms. “Sure, so long as you understand that if Dean breaks my heart, then my older brother will probably come back early from India and kick his ass.”

Sam nodded approvingly. “Fair… What’s your brother doing out in India?”

And just like that the conversation shifted and Castiel explained what Gabriel was doing out there as a consultant for a series of business startups trying to make their mark in the world. Castiel understood that Sam was trying to distract himself, and Castiel was fine with that as they waited for Dean to get back, which he did soon enough.

Handing over the food and drinks, Dean looked like he was expecting a thank you rather than Sam jumping in and asking, “So when were you going to tell me about you and Cas?”

Castiel busied himself with eating while Dean was bombarded with questions.

***

“I’m sorry, son,” said John, voice thick and hoarse. Dean had to admit: his old man looked like crap. Peppered hair greasy and sticking out all over the place; cheeks covered in four days growth; eyes bloodshot; skin waxy and stretched—John looked like he’d been through hell. The kind of hell you go through when you try to kick a booze habit that’s been dogging a good part of your adult life.

Taking a step closer to the drip beside his dad’s bed, Dean casually glanced at the bag. “Why’d you leave the center, dad? You’d already gotten through the worst of it. All you had to to do was just stay there and get better.” Dean faced his dad, jaw tight as he looked his father over.

“I…” John started and then reached for a cup of water on a table beside the bed. Putting a straw between his lips, he sipped from the cup and then put it back down. “I had to talk to you and Sam,” John started.

“You could have picked up a phone,” Dean pointed out, unable or unwilling to hide the anger in his voice.

John licked his lips and didn’t meet Dean’s eyes as he said, “It wasn’t something that could be said over the phone. I needed to… I need to…”

“Go on.”

John let out a breath. “Can you get Sam, please?”

_Figures_. “Sure.” Dean wandered out of the room and headed back down the hallway to the waiting room. He felt a tug at his heart as he reached the room and found his brother and Cas deep in conversation.

“I don’t think he’s ever going to finish that film,” Sam stated, arms across his chest. Dean had no idea what the two of them were talking about.

“Have some faith, Sam. I think Gilliam will get there. Perhaps 2016 will be his year and they’ll get his vision for _Don Quixote_ finally rolling.” Cas stopped talking just as he caught sight of Dean. “Dean, everything okay?”

Sam twisted in his seat to look at Dean. “Dean?”

Jamming his hands in his pockets, Dean shrugged and nodded towards where he’d just come from. “Dad wants to talk to us.”

“Oh.” Sam stood and gave Dean a look he couldn’t quite understand, bar the hurt that was there. Sam’s eye was only just starting to look normal again and Dean knew he probably didn’t want to be in the same room as their dad, but he wanted to talk and he was in no state to take another swing.

“Cas, you okay to wait here?” Dean asked as Sam started towards the hallway that lead down to John’s room.

“Sure.” Cas smiled and Dean wished he didn’t have to head back to his dad.

“Hopefully it won’t take too long.” Dean headed back out of the waiting room and followed Sam.

Back in John’s room, Dean couldn’t help noting the way Sam kept his distance from their father, choosing to stand by the door. The air was heavy with unsaid words and Dean looked to his dad to start unloading and finally lift some of the weight that had been dragging down all three of them for years.

“Sam… Dean…” John began, stopped and drew in a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

The tension in the room didn’t feel any lighter. Dean sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. The cell in Dean’s pocket vibrated from a text message, but Dean didn’t reach for his cell.

“You could have picked up the phone for this,” Sam pointed out, echoing Dean’s earlier words.

“No.” John shook his head. “I need to say this _to you_. Dean, Sam—I’ve put you both through so much since your mom died and… even before the cancer took her from us. I’ve been a disgraceful father… and I didn’t see any of this until I felt like I was going to sweat myself to death while back at the center. I couldn’t leave it until I was better to tell you.

“I’m sorry for the hell I’ve dragged you both through. How you never had much of a childhood. How I was never there for either of you. I know I can never make up for any of it, but… I’m saying sorry now. And I’m going to head back into rehab tomorrow and see it through.”

Dean flicked his tongue out along his lips, cleared his throat and asked, “You haven’t had a single drink since you left the center, right?”

John shook his head. “Ask my doctor. They tested me. I’m sober. I am _going_ to stay sober,” he said with conviction.

There was no haze of alcohol in his father’s eyes. This was the most clear he had been in years and Dean couldn’t remember when his father hadn’t been affected by alcohol. Couldn’t recall what it was like to interact with his father when he didn’t have veins filled with three fingers of whiskey.

Sam looked about ready to walk up to their dad and punch him right in the face. Instead Dean’s brother stayed by the door, body rigid, fists clenched, eyes boring into their dad as he glared at him. But rather than punch their dad or say anything, Sam left the room and stormed down the hallway outside.

Taking a step to the bed, Dean rubbed at his neck and met his father’s eyes. “Thanks… It’s gonna take some time… but you’re doing the right thing. We’ll talk once you’re back in rehab. Okay?”

“I wouldn’t ask for more than that. Thank you, son,” John replied, voice thick with emotion, eyes wet.

“Sure. Seeya... dad.” Going back into the hallway, Dean pulled his cell from his jeans and unlocked it. There was a message from Cas:

[Cas] Sorry, been called into the office for some kind of emergency. Don’t know what. Looks like an all nighter

Reaching the waiting room, Dean found Sam, but saw that Cas had already gone. Sam gave Dean a questioning look.

“Where’s Cas?” Sam asked.

“Work called him in. Some kind of emergency.” Dean sighed, he’d been looking forward to spending the rest of his Sunday with Cas. Try and get his head back on straight before heading into work on Monday. He wanted to be around Cas. Have the chance to hold him and just not think for a while.

“It’s a Sunday… and it’s not like he’s a doctor or whatever.”

_Yeah, it is kinda weird_. “Maybe I’ll swing by his office and drop off some food and coffee.”

Sam didn’t say anything to that, but Dean recognized the look in his eyes—Sam’s “don’t leave me alone” look”.

“Wanna come with?” Dean asked. _Not like Cas and I can do something in his office in the middle of an “emergency”._

“Yes.”

***

The offices of Milton & MacLeod were deathly quiet when Castiel finished riding the elevator up to the main floor. No one else was there, though a light was on in the main meeting room, shining between the blinds. Crowley had been vague in his text message, saying something had come up with the Novajava account and that he needed Castiel in to help him prep some materials for a call Monday morning.

Approaching the meeting room, Castiel didn’t understand why the blinds were closed behind the room’s glass walls. They rarely closed them unless they were dealing with with a project that hadn’t got a non-disclosure agreement sorted out yet and someone had slides up on the wall. _But that only makes sense if there’s other people in the office._ Cas looked around again. _There’s no one else here_.

Brow furrowed, Castiel approached the meeting room and pulled on its long metal handle. Opening the door, he saw Crowley sat down in a black leather swivel seat in the middle of the meeting room, the room’s usual tables surrounding him on three sides, his back to the door. Stepping inside, Castiel approached Crowley.

“Crowley—what is this?” Castiel asked just as he reached the back of his boss’s chair. It was just as Crowley turned the chair around that Castiel’s eyes caught what was on the far tables. There was a bottle of champagne on ice, oysters on ice, strawberries and cream and two silver candlesticks with lit candles slowly melting wax over them. On the floor was a red and black tartan style wool blanket. Castiel might have a hard time telling when someone was flirting with him, but he could tell what was happening there in that meeting room. He just couldn’t bring himself to say what it was.

“A date.” Crowley rose from the chair and approached Castiel. The two of them couldn’t look more different there and then: Crowley in a dark, impeccably tailored suit, designer shoes and a well shaped charcoal dress shirt; Castiel in his borrowed Led Zeppelin t-shirt, a pair of very comfy jeans, sneakers and a baggy brown zip-up hoodie.

“I knew that you probably wouldn’t agree to one if I’d just outright asked you,” Crowley added.

And he was right. Castiel wouldn’t have gone on a date with Crowley, wouldn’t have given him the time of day if he’d asked. His boss was older than him, more obsessed with looks than him and, oh yeah, _my boss_. Narrowing his eyes at Crowley, Castiel crossed his arms over his chest and stayed near the door.

“You’re right I wouldn’t have.” Castiel’s gaze flicked to the champagne and food again. “But there’s also something to be said for subtlety.” Clearly, Castiel’s candour in Seattle had been a mistake.

Crowley took a step towards Castiel. _I thought Sundays were meant to be the day of rest?_ Castiel thought sourly, finding it hard to believe that a mere two hours ago he had been sat with Dean in their apartment watching his new boyfriend play Skyrim. If Crowley hadn’t been his boss, he would have just walked out of the room and gone home, but Castiel had worked hard to get this job.

Leaving there and then would mean leaving his job. Crowley would make sure that were was no place for Castiel at Milton & McLeod on Monday if he wanted. Maybe the man had yet to scream at Castiel, but he knew well enough how the man could roast staff alive with his tongue. And then those people would pack up their desk and leave.

Did Castiel want to be among those former employees? With only a month with the company, his CV would look terrible with including his stint there, because it hadn’t been an internship. And if we went for an interview with one of several other agencies that knew he’d started there, they’d ask what went wrong and Castiel was a terrible liar. What had happened would spill from his lips—

_But Crowley would probably start spreading rumors about me anyway. I’ll never work in a big agency again_ , Castiel deduced as Crowley took another step towards him. _I should just play along and quit as soon as it’s safe too_. It wasn’t that Castiel needed the money, his inheritance made sure of that, but he really didn’t want his reputation ruined by one man.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me, Castiel. Those gorgeous blues of yours, filled with admiration and longing,” Crowley crooned. “You’re just too shy to ask your boss for more than a beer on a night out. So how about a glass of champagne?”

It was like the bar in Seattle all over again, only this time Castiel didn’t have anywhere to run. _How do I keep attracting guys like this?_ Castiel pondered as he forced a smile onto his face. “Sure… I’ll have a glass.”

Crowley returned Castiel’s fake smile with a real one and went over to the metal bucket that held the chilled bottle of champagne. While Crowley opened the bottle like an expert—the cork coming out with a quiet pop and none of the expensive liquid spilling from the bottle—Castiel tried to figure out how far things were going to go. The fact that Crowley had oysters on ice meant that he obviously hoped that more than civil conversation was going to take place in the meeting room.

Champagne flutes filled, Crowley gestured towards the blanket and Castiel sat down, legs crossed. Crowley passed a flute down to Castiel and then placed the tray of iced oysters on the blanket as well as the champagne back in the bucket. Apparently satisfied with what he’d done, Crowley sat down beside Castiel, legs also crossed, mirroring Castiel’s body language, but also seeming more open than Castiel.

There was nowhere for Castiel to just casually fling the bubbling liquid and pretend he’d drunk the glass. He drank his glass down in one go and hoped the alcohol would make this whole thing easier.

His boss downed his glass too and sidled closer to Castiel. He picked up an oyster and held it towards Castiel. “Ever had oysters before?”

Of course Castiel was meant to be some lowly marketing assistant who'd spent the past few years wrestling his way out of the mud, just some junior hire who didn’t come from money. Even when he wore a suit, Castiel knew that Crowley wouldn’t connect him with _the_ Novaks who were old money with fingers in property development all over the world.

He shook his head. “No, I haven’t,” Castiel lied.

“You’ll love them.” Rather than let Castiel take the oyster shell from him, Crowley held it to Castiel’s lips and tipped the slightly rubbery, coppery, steak sauce tasting moist morsel into his mouth.

Castiel swallowed the oyster down, ignoring the taste as much as possible, because he may have eaten them before—he didn’t necessarily like them. A second and a third soon followed, then Crowley had a few himself. Then the dainty champagne flutes were filled again and Crowley encouraged Castiel to drink the tart, fizzing liquid down. So he did and he felt his head become as light as the bubbles that had been in his glass.

Having never been a hard drinker, certainly not one to binge at college, Castiel wasn’t surprised by how quickly the second glass of champagne went to his head. Everything felt just that bit more detached and not happening to him once he’d finished his second glass. Crowley chose then to set their glasses on the floor, out of the way, lean in and kiss Castiel on the mouth while reaching a hand to the back of his neck. His boss tasted of the champagne and oysters, five o’clock shadow rough against Castiel’s cheeks.

Castiel tried to hold back the tears that were forming in his eyes as Crowley pushed his mouth open and shoved his tongue inside. _Damnit Cas, is this job, this life, really worth this? Come on, COME ON—STOP IT!_ He screamed in his own head.

“Cas?” Dean called from somewhere nearby, outside the meeting room.

The door to the meeting room opened and Castiel managed to get control of his arms enough to heave Crowley away from him. Scrambling to his feet, Castiel backed away from his boss and looked between Crowley and Dean and Sam who were stood in the doorway.

“How did you _get_ in here?” Crowley demanded, hauling himself to his feet.

“Security let us in when we said we food for Cas…” Dean explained.

“Dean, we should go,” Castiel pleaded, heading straight towards the doorway, knowing that he no longer had a place at Milton & MacLeod.

There was an unreadable expression on Dean’s face, but he didn’t yell at Castiel, didn’t demand anything of him, he just let Castiel get past him. Sam was outside the meeting room, arms slung with bags of takeout, coffee cups in his hands.

The older Winchester made no move to leave. Castiel gently touched his arm, well aware of how things must have looked. “Dean, we need to leave.”

“Yeah… of course,” Dean said distantly, letting Castiel pull him away and lead him and Sam back towards the elevator.

“ _Castiel_ ,” Crowley half growled after them, but Castiel ignored him as the doors of the elevator closed in front of them.

“Dean—” Castiel started.

“Don’t,” Dean said sternly, leading the way out of the building and to where he’d left the Impala. Castiel didn’t have his car, as he taken a taxi to the office.

Everyone filed into the car, with Castiel alone in the back. He could still taste Crowley on his lips and in his mouth, and he wanted to puke.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean had no words for what he had walked in on that Sunday night. And he didn’t want to know, so he’d dropped Sam at his dorm and then driven back to the apartment in silence. How everything could have shifted like it had in less than a twenty four hours, Dean didn’t understand. When he’d seen Cas and that guy on the floor, surrounded by the champagne and food, his mind had gone blank and then been replaced by his own internal screaming.

He’d been suckered right in, bought that whole dewy eyed, “everyone’s after me and it’s a pain to find the right person” act that Cas seemed to have going on. Never had Dean felt so stupid before, but that Sunday night as he lay alone in his own bed, he was glad they’d had sex in Castiel’s the night before and not his, because at least it meant that his bed didn’t smell of Cas or sex.

_But why, Cas? Why? I thought we had something. Just us. I’ve been such an idiot_ , Dean lamented, turning over on his bed as he started crying into his pillows. It was just too much on top of everything with his dad as well. Dean wanted to be held and told everything was going to be alright, and the one person he thought he’d found who might do that was getting off with random men in an office.

Chest hurting from not being able to quite breathe enough and from the pain of betrayal, Dean wondered if he could get out of his lease for the apartment. There was obviously no point in hanging around—he’d shat where he ate and he was not going to lie in that bed. _Maybe I can get a place that’s big enough for Sam and me, and he can move in next semester…_ Dean considered, trying to find something positive in all of what had happened.

All he had to show for his time with Cas was a heart being torn in two and a save game file he’d never get to continue with. _Maybe Bobby will lemme have the morning off so I can look for somewhere new? Though I should probably ask Sam first if he wants to live with me._ Dean pulled out his cell and started composing a text to Sam.

There was a knock at his door. “Dean?” Cas called through it.

“Go away, Cas,” Dean answered.

“Look, we need to talk,” Castiel persisted.

“No we don’t. It’s pretty clear what happened,” Dean called through the door.

“Whatever you think happened it wasn’t like that.”

Anger replacing hurt, Dean got up from his bed and stalked towards his bedroom door. Yanking it open, he was greeted with a teary eyed Cas, his face looking freshly scrubbed.

“So tell me, just what the hell was it, Cas? ‘Cause to me it looked like two guys making out in the middle of an office while out on a date.” Dean held onto the door, ready to slam it in Castiel’s face if he didn’t like what he heard.

Cas licked his lips and Dean couldn’t stop himself from tracking the movement. Meeting Dean’s eyes, Castiel’s voice was level as he talked, “That man… that man was my boss. Crowley MacLeod, one of the owning partners of the agency I work at.”

Dean shrugged. “So?”

“He sent me a text… asking me to come to the office under false pretenses.” Castiel swallowed and let out a long breath.

“And you just let him tongue fuck you?” Dean hissed, making Cas flinch.

“No… I couldn’t… I couldn’t leave, Dean. Crowley… Crowley would have ruined me if I’d left,” Cas explained, gaze pleading.

“What… what do you mean?” asked Dean.

“Dean, Crowley is not someone to be… denied. If I hadn’t played along he would have sacked me and ruined every chance I had at ever working in marketing again.

“Until you and Sam showed up, I was just going to play along with it as he forced himself on me. Try and get out of it at a later time, when it wouldn’t have led to Crowley’s wrath. Crowley’s not the kind of boss to act happy if he’s stopped from getting what he wants, Dean. But none of that matters now, I left with you. My desk will be empty or in pieces by tomorrow morning.” The fight seemed to go out of Cas then and Dean’s roommate slid down to his knees, hitting the floorboards hard.

It took Dean a few moments to process all of what Cas had said. “Wait, he forced himself on you?”

Cas gave a small nod and the moment Dean had walked into that room came back to him. The way Castiel’s cheeks had been wet, the paleness of his skin and the scared look in his eyes. He’d completely misread the situation. He’d been so ready to judge that he had failed to see that someone had hurt Cas.

Sliding down beside Cas, Dean pulled the man into his arms and held Cas as sobs started to wrack his body. Dean rubbed small circles into Castiel’s back, making soothing noises while he did. He felt bad about thinking the worst, but he stomped those feelings down, because it wasn’t going to help Cas.

“We’ve had a hell of a day,” Dean mumbled into the top of Castiel’s head and buried his face in Castiel’s hair. He held his roommate as close as he possibly could. Some kind of noise that might have been a “yes” rumbled out of Cas and Dean kissed the top of Castiel’s head.

“Tell you what, I bet Bobby’ll let me have tomorrow off if I ask. We could swing by the office and get your things?”

Cas gave a fierce shake of his head, almost banging into Dean’s chin. “No. I’m not going back there. I didn’t really leave anything at my desk. I’ll… I’ll email HR in the morning and say I’m resigning if I’m not fired already.”

“You’ll get another job, Cas. Bright, friendly guy like you. So don’t worry,” Dean reassured.

A chuckle worked its way through Cas. “Crowley has connections. I won’t get another job or better this side of the pond,” he explained, tilting his face so he wasn’t speaking into Dean’s chest.

“You don’t know that.”

Giving another head shake, Castiel looked up at Dean. “Believe me, I do… but maybe it’s time I started on my own. I have a business idea I’ve wanted to develop for a while. It’s not like I’m hurting for cash.”

“Whaddya mean?” Dean asked. “You needed a roommate right?”

Cas gave a gentle shrug. “I’m a Novak. I only work, because I dislike how my siblings live their lives. Well, except Gabriel, he enjoys working too.”

_Novak… Novak… Novak… Why does that sound familiar when he says it like that?_ “What do you mean you’re a Novak?”

“My family’s old and new money. Myself…” Castiel cleared his throat, voice wavering a little as he said, “I had a substantial inheritance from an uncle.”

The name did sound familiar, not that Dean had any specific memory of it. He nodded and stroked a hand through Castiel’s hair. “What’s your business idea?”

***

“John doing okay?” Bobby asked, handing Dean a cup of coffee. They were sat on an old green couch in Bobby’s office.

Dean had told Cas that he needed to run a few errands, after how their Sunday had been completely derailed. His roommate— _boyfriend? We really need to have a conversation about this_ —had still been in bed at the time and had had moaned about wanting more sleep, so Dean had left Cas to it.

“Define okay?” Dean rubbed at the back of his neck and breathed in the bitterness of the black liquid in his cup.

Rolling in his eyes, Bobby let out a long breath and shrugged. “He stay dry during his break out?”

“Said he was sober. All the tests they did came back saying he was.” Dean blew on his coffee and took a small sip of it.

“I know the place Jim got him checked into wouldn’t take him back straight away if he’d touched the stuff while he was out. John say anything to you boys?” Bobby sipped his coffee and waited for Dean to say something.

He hadn’t gone to Bobby to talk about all this crap, he just wanted to check in on things, seeing as how he’d had to excuse himself from working for the day. Bobby was fine with him taking the time off, Dean had been putting in a lot of extra hours here and there. But he’d needed someone to talk to, remind him of what normal was and Benny was there working as well. Dean just hadn’t wanted the conversation to focus so much on him.

_How do you talk about yourself without talking about yourself?_ Dean sipped his coffee again, cleared his throat and said, “Dad said sorry. He pretty much apologized for everything in the run up to mom passing and everything after. Seemed to mean it too.”

Bobby nodded. “He could have called.”

Dean laughed and sucked in a breath. “Oh, we told him that. Said he couldn’t tell us it all over the phone.”

Licking his lips, Bobby took another sip of coffee, nursing his cup in a way that made Dean think that his boss and lifelong family friend wanted it to be cup of something else. Even though it was a Monday morning.

Bobby cleared his throat. “But you didn’t just ask for the day off because of your dad.”

Did he have the right to tell Bobby what had happened with Cas? Dean knew Bobby wasn’t a gossip, that anything that Dean told him would be kept in the strictest confidence. And maybe he should tell at least one person how he was planning on doing with the rest of his morning.

“Something happened with Cas last night.”

Bobby spluttered, mid sip of coffee. “From what Benny said, a lot happened with Cas last weekend.”

Going red, Dean ducked his head a little and tried to regain his composure. Looking back up at Bobby, he couldn’t miss the fond smirk on the older man’s face. “Yeah well stuff other than that happened. Cas was…” Dean felt anger start to curl in his belly as he thought about what had happened in Milton & MacLeod the night before. “Cas was assaulted last night.”

“What, someone socked him one?” Bobby straightened up. Even though the man had never met Cas, Dean could see that old protective anger flare in his eyes, like it did whenever he’d thought John had been too harsh on Dean or Sam.

Dean swallowed hard and shook his head. “No… his boss tried to… force him to do something he didn’t want to do.” _And I was an idiot who thought he’d wanted it, until it was spelled out to my dumbass self._

“Christ, is he okay?” Bobby placed a reassuring hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Shaken… he’s probably lost his job. I was going to head into his office after here and see if I can pick up his things. He’s too afraid to go back there.”

Bobby pursed his lips and frowned. “You’re not gonna start anything are you? Cas doesn’t need you to make a scene.”

“You haven’t met the guy!” Dean pointed out.

“Maybe you should change that on Friday night and join Benny and me for a drink at Ellen’s, _and_ bring Cas with you.”

“That could work,” Dean admitted.

“Of course it would, you idjit.”

Leaving Bobby’s auto shop, Dean tried to keep his thoughts in check. He was so pissed off about what had been done to Cas, but he couldn’t let his emotions get the better of him the moment he set foot in Milton & MacLeod. The option of avoiding the place altogether had been there, but Dean had seen the box of crap that Cas had carted to the place on his first day there and knew he would want his things back—despite what he’d said.

The building was heaving with people in comparison to the previous night, and with the offices to the agency opened up, Dean didn’t have to bother with security. Walking through, he headed to what he assumed was the reception desk, it was high sided and had some brunette sat at it who just seemed put there to scowl at everyone.

“Hey, I’m here to pick up Castiel Novak’s things,” Dean said to the woman.

“Great. I was just about to go to chuck it out.” The woman pointed to a filled cardboard box beside the desk.

Dean bent his knees and picked up the box. He caught a glimpse of some photo frames, one held a picture of Cas with some light brown haired guy with amber eyes. _Yeah, he’ll want this back_.

“Good riddance,” the woman muttered, eyes back on the monitor in front of her.

“Excuse me?” Dean asked, turning to the woman.

“I said good riddance,” she replied, giving Dean a fierce glare.

The coffee from Bobby churned in Dean’s stomach. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t proposition your boss. Certainly not with champagne and oysters on a Sunday night in the place you work,” hissed the woman.

_Oh, so it’s like that_. “It was the other way round.”

“Is this man bothering you, Ruby?” called the swarmy voice of the asshole responsible for Castiel’s misery.

Turing to face Crowley, Dean narrowed his eyes at the business owner and gritted his jaw. “No, I was just leaving.” Shifting away from Crowley, Dean stalked over to the elevators, juggled the box and then pressed the down button.

“We’re not done,” Crowley hissed from behind Dean as he stepped into the elevator. Dean didn’t say anything so Crowley followed him inside and stopped the elevator between floors.

Dean put the box of Castiel’s things down and glared at Crowley. “What the hell?!”

“Your friend is never working in this industry again, you hear me? I’m going to bury his name so deep, he won’t even be able to get a job at Wendy’s.” Crowley jabbed a finger at Dean’s chest, but Dean resisted his urge to punch the man. He noted that there were no cameras in the elevator.

“Is that so? Well, I think you’ve made a mistake, Mister MacLeod. Did you ever stop to think who Castiel really is? He’s a _Novak_ and far as I can tell, his family could buy your business with the change down the back of their couch. Or sue your ass so hard, you’d never have two pennies to rub together again.

“So maybe you should have thought twice about trying to pick up Castiel and do things he didn’t want.” Dean removed Crowley’s finger from his chest, pressed the button to start the elevator and picked up the box.

“He’s… he’s a _Novak_?” Crowley asked in dumb disbelief. The elevator reached the first floor.

“You better write Castiel a good reference and give him all of his pay and then some,” Dean called over his shoulder as he left Milton & MacLeod for the last time.

***

Hearing the apartment door open and close, Castiel forced his eyes open, rolled over and checked his cell. It was coming up to noon and he hadn’t even gotten out of bed yet. Letting out a long sigh and then yawning, Castiel crawled out of bed and made his way to his bathroom. He used the john, splashed some water on his face and then grabbed a robe from his room.

“Cas, you awake?” Dean called just as Castiel walked out of his room, wrapped up in a thick blue robe.

“Y—yeah,” Castiel yawned and walked over to the kitchen, beating Dean to the coffee maker. He changed the filter, shoved in some fresh grounds and water, and turned the thing on. Dean hovered nearby as he did this and it took him some time to see that his roommate was standing there with a cardboard box. A cardboard box filled with familiar looking knick knacks and office supplies.

“Hey, so, uh, I picked up your things for you from the office,” said Dean, thrusting the box forward a little. He gave Castiel a nervous smile and then put the box down on the breakfast counter.

The photo of him and Gabriel at the top of the Grand Canyon, smiling and looking slightly tanned, big sunglasses on, stared-up from the box and Castiel’s throat felt tight. It was the only copy he had of that picture. He looked to Dean and gave a pained smile, because he was happy that Dean had done this for him.

Air smelling of fresh coffee, Castiel stepped towards Dean. “Thank you,” he said, voice tight with emotion. He reached Dean and wrapped his arms around the man. “Thank you,” he repeated, tilting his face up and pressing a kiss to the side of Dean’s mouth. Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel and brought their mouths together, keeping the kiss gentle and sweet.

“So,” Dean said against Castiel’s lips, “uh… about us… Is there an us?”

Warmth spreading through his chest, in response to Dean’s question, Castiel sucked in a nervous breath. “There’s an us, if you want there to be an us.”

A blush creeped up onto Dean’s cheeks. “Boyfriends?”

“I heard from Sam that you don’t do chick flick moments,” Castiel teased. He was about to say something else when Dean stole his way into Castiel’s mouth in one swift movement, tongue eager and assertive, chasing Castiel’s. Being kissed breathless by Dean, hands roaming all over, Castiel felt light headed by the time Dean stopped and let them catch their breath.

“Boyfriends,” Dean stated, holding Castiel as close to him as he possibly could. Despite everything that had happened, Castiel felt—there in Dean’s arms—that the two of them would be able to get through these setbacks.

It was twenty four days until Thanksgiving.


	10. Chapter 10

“We should let the platform have apps,” Charlie announced as she talked to Castiel via a video Skype call. His old college friend had her long red hair up in a bun, glasses poised on the edge of her nose. Once the business side of their call was over, Castiel planned on asking Charlie where she’d got her Doctor Who t-shirt from.

“How do you mean?” Castiel asked, precariously balancing a notebook on his knee while his laptop was on the coffee table. His pen was poised, ready to write down more.

“By sandboxing parts of the platform, we can create an environment ready for other developers to make all the little widgets and gizmos that’ll make it worth using. Let some of them charge for the privilege of course. And we’ll develop some of our own apps in house…”

“But we can make it the ultimate productivity playground, able to splice with anything people need to do their job. Do their job and talk,” Castiel concluded.

Charlie winked at Castiel. “Exactly, angel face. We’ll do some serious work to get your baby going, but we’ll give it the legs it needs.”

Hand working as fast he could to write down all of what had just been said, Castiel thought back to the issue of user subscriptions. “I think we should have a free level. No matter how many users you have on your team, you have free access up to a certain number of messages, after that the message archive only shows the most recent 10,000 messages.”

“So you’ll have some users who never pay.”

“But plenty who will and then we’ll charge on a per user basis at a reasonable rate. Maybe offer more options for enterprises who need to really scale—”

“Hey, Cas, you home?” Dean called from the front door having opened it without Castiel realizing.

“Just on a call, Dean,” Castiel called back.

“Look, I think we’re done here,” said Charlie, giving Castiel another wink. “Have a nice Thanksgiving tomorrow okay?”

“You sure you don’t wanna drive down and join us?” Castiel asked while he wrote some quick notes on his subscription idea.

Charlie shook her head. “Thanks, but Gilda’s invited me around hers. We’ll talk in a few days, muggle. Until then, later.”

“Later.” Castiel leaned forward and ended the call.

The couch dipped as Dean sat down beside him, a questioning look on his face. “Business call?”

“We’ll have a beta ready come New Year,” Castiel announced and flashed Dean a huge smile. “How was work?”

“Same old, same old. Though someone brought in a really nice 1968 Shelby Mustang. Needed a slight tune up. It was just good to be working on something like that… kinda treat to take a break from the usual parade of Hondas and today’s general homegrown crowd.” Dean wrapped an arm around Castiel’s shoulders and pulled them close.

“Don’t make ‘em like they use to?” Castiel prompted.

Dean leaned in and kissed Castiel on the cheek. “Damn right they don’t make'em like they use to.”

Close to Dean, it was easier for Castiel to feel the light thrum of nervous energy making his boyfriend tense and uneasy. It wasn’t a surprise that Dean was feeling like he was about ready to jump up and start scratching at his skin like it was covered in bugs—Dean had been feeling more and more nervous the closer they got to Thanksgiving.

It wasn’t the journey to the Novaks’ residence in Wichita that was driving Dean up the wall, it was the prospect of meeting Castiel’s family that seemed to fill him with fear. He hadn’t told Castiel any of this of course, but Castiel wasn’t blind. Had caught browser sessions where Dean had been reading up on Castiel’s family. Castiel would be lying if he’d said he wasn’t nervous on Dean’s behalf, but he was also worried about handling the Pamela situation _and_ the news that he was starting his own business.

“You’re thinking too much,” Dean announced and pushed Castiel down on the couch. Mouth hungrily opening Castiel’s, tongue slipping inside his mouth, Dean chased away all of Castiel’s thoughts until all that was left was, _Dean, Dean Dean, Dean, Dean,_ running around inside his head.

Caged underneath his boyfriend, Castiel whimpered into Dean’s mouth the second Dean started to grind against his crotch. The pressure tantalizing and sweet, making Castiel’s heart jump in his chest. Dean smelled of the sandalwood cologne he liked to use, and the oil and grease of the auto shop. Cock filling, Castiel needed more than just kisses and Dean pressed up against him.

He whined low in his throat.

“Okay, okay,” Dean relented, breaking their kiss. Castiel pushed Dean down his body and Dean didn’t need to be told twice: he opened Castiel’s flies, dipped a hand inside, cupping a feel and then pulled Castiel’s length out.

“You look good enough to eat,” Dean teased, voice going a notch deeper as he brought his mouth to Castiel’s cock. Castiel watched as Dean licked down the underside of his cock, making pre-come ooze out of his tip. The contact made Castiel want to buck towards Dean’s mouth, but Dean held him down by his hips, keeping him in place.

“Dean!” Castiel panted.

His boyfriend looked up at him with a wicked gleam in his blown, emerald eyes and then swallowed down Castiel’s aching length. Not breaking eye contact with Castiel, Dean hollowed his cheeks and began to bob his mouth on Castiel’s length, tongue purposefully whipping around the head of his cock on each upward motion.

Smelling his own muskiness on the air, Castiel reached a hand out to Dean’s hair and tangled his fingers in it. Grounded, Castiel moaned and panted, feeling the flare of release getting closer and closer.

“Dean… fuck… perfect… please… going to… come…” Castiel warned. Dean sucked him down harder, tongue teasing him just that bit and Castiel was done—coming with a yell, Dean’s name on his lips as his vision whited out.

Distantly, Castiel was aware of Dean moving off of him, clothes rustling and then Castiel opened his eyes to see Dean standing at the head of the couch with his dick out. Moving his near boneless body to kneel at Dean’s feet, Castiel couldn’t help marvelling at the advantages of working from home as he devoured Dean. Letting his lover fuck his mouth, spit sliding down his chin as he brought Dean to orgasm.

***

Hands tensed on the Impala’s steering wheel, Dean wasn’t sure which would have been better: a long drive or a short drive to Castiel’s parents’ place.  It was only a two hour drive to their home on the outskirts of Wichita. The destination a slice of suburbia that had formed a big part of Castiel’s childhood.

They would have a room to themselves while they were there for the next few days and Dean had wanted to make it special for Cas. Not spend the entire holiday freaking out about meeting Castiel’s parents. It would be their first Thanksgiving together, and if Dean was being perfectly honest with himself: he hoped it would be the first of many together. He didn’t care that most would say the two of them were in the honeymoon period of their relationship: Dean could see it lasting beyond that.

Dean was allowing himself to hope, to love and to be loved: and he liked how it felt.

“Almost there. Just take the next turn off,” Cas directed.

Still, Dean was a little worried about what to expect. “So… this Pamela chick still showing up?”

“Michael hasn’t said otherwise. I did tell him that I was bringing a date.” Cas shrugged, his frustration clear.

“If they’re mean, we’ll keep to ourselves all the pie we baked. Deal?”

Cas chuckled. “Deal.”

Too soon, Dean was taking the next turn off and arriving in the most upmarket neighborhood he’d been in for sometime. Following Castiel’s directions, they were soon rolling through the gates to the Novaks’ family home and Dean tried not to be cowed by the mansion’s expanse. Cas didn’t have any photos of the exterior and when he’d described the brown bricked, three story home he’d not mentioned the private drive, or what looked like the signs of an outdoor pool.

“It’s a shame the weather is so brisk, it would have been nice to have used the tennis court,” Cas said as Dean pulled the Impala up by a row of cars. Each car was at least less than two years old.

_Tennis court? Oh…_ “Yeah, shame.”

Leaving the safety of the Impala, arms laden with bags and pie, Dean hopes he wasn’t underdressed as he approached the front door to the Novak mansion. Both of them were in long sleeved shirts, Castiel in blue plaid and Dean in a red shirt, jeans and boots. It was all clean, but Dean started to think he should have turned up in a three piece suit.

Cas rang the bell and seconds later, a maid opened the massive pale oak door. A short woman with fiery red hair, she smiled when she saw Cas. “Master Novak, oh it’s so good to see you!”

“Hello, Rowena,” Cas greeted, a small smile playing on his face. “This is my boyfriend, Dean. We’re expected.”

Rowena backed away, holding the door open for them. “I heard. I’ve gotten your room ready just as you like it. There is a whee guest room for your guest,” Rowena explained and then leaned in conspiratorially towards Cas, speaking loud enough that Dean would hear too, “but I’ll understand if Dean doesn’t use it, eh?” Rowena gave them both a wink and led the way into the house.

Having them leave their bags at the bottom of the stairs, Rowena then helped Dean place the pies in the kitchen refrigerator before finally taking the two of them to where the family was gathered. A log fire burned happily in a large marble fireplace, making the main living room’s high white walls dance with its orange glow. Dean recognised Castiel’s parents: Chuck and Daphne. Castiel’s mom kept her steely blue eyes on Dean, not even moving when a strand of reddish brown hair fell onto her face.

_Are those his other brothers and sister?_ Dean wondered looking over at the four other people in the room. He knew Gabriel wouldn’t be there, but Dean thought he recognized Michael, Abner, Ezekiel and Hannah from photos Cas had shown him on his cell. Michael was tall with dark hair and a confidence to him that seemed to overshadow his brothers and sister. Abner and Ezekiel were shorter, stouter, with brown hair and almost matching beards; Hannah had long mousy brown hair and was short and petite—like a strong wind would knock her over.

Thankfully none of them were dressed like they expected a member of the British Royal Family to show up at any moment.

“Hi, mom, dad,” Cas greeted, letting Dean shadow him as they walked into the living room. “Everyone, this is my boyfriend: Dean Winchester,” announced Cas as he stepped to the side so that everyone could see Dean.

Everyone looked at him and Dean didn’t miss the flicker of disdain that passed across Daphne’s face. Chuck gave Dean the biggest smile and got up from his armchair to come over and shake Dean’s hand.

“It’s great to meet you, Dean,” Chuck greeted, giving Dean’s hand a very strong shake for such a short guy. “Glad you could join us.” It was difficult to bring together the knowledge that this pepper haired, bearded, short man was one of the richest property developers in the country.

After that, the rest of the Novaks went and said hello to Dean. Everyone except Castiel’s mom, who stayed in her armchair and glared at Dean until their final guest arrived.

Pamela Barnes had long, wavy black hair and a casual black dress with short sleeves and a bodice and skirt that hugged her in all the right places. If Dean hadn’t been with Cas and he’d met that woman in a bar, he would have been hitting on her before she even had the chance to order a drink.

“Pamela, so glad you could join us,” greeted Daphne Novak, deigning to raise herself from her chair and greet their new guest. Unlike what she had failed to do with Dean.

It was clear that Dean wasn’t winning any battles there, so he thought nothing of it. But he couldn’t help shake the sense that something would come to a head before the day was out.

The Thanksgiving meal was served at the start of the evening, in an immense dining room with a long cherry wood table that they could all fit around. Before Rowena took the lids off the dishes that had been placed on the table, the nine of them took turns to say what they were thankful for that year. The only uncovered food was the turkey at the head of the table, and Dean’s gaze kept drifting to it as other people talked, its size and sheen making his mouth water.

When it came to Cas to say what he was thankful for, Dean’s boyfriend stood up and looked around him, a smile clear on his face. “This year, I’m thankful for the opportunities that I have found for myself. In getting to know Dean and starting my own business.”

A hush went around the table. Dean noted the way that Daphne scowled at him while throwing reassuring looks to Pamela. _Yep, I am making the best first impression alright_.

“What do you mean, starting your own business?” Daphne asked in a shrill voice.

Cas licked his lips. “Exactly that. I’ve started my own business. I’m working on a platform that could revolutionize the way teams in businesses talk to each other.”

Checking out Chuck from the corner of his eye, Dean saw that Castiel’s dad seemed impressed with the news. Daphne on the other hand wore a dissatisfied grimace.

“And what of your position at Milton & MacLeod?” Daphne demanded.

There was no missing the flinch that passed through Cas. “Due to unforeseen circumstances, I had to resign at the start of the month.”

“But that was a well respected firm! I assume you’re the one who persuaded Castiel to pursue this nonsense?!” Daphne glowered at Dean and he realized that every set of eyes around the table, bar Cas’s, were on him.

“No,” Dean started and then cleared his throat. “It was his idea.”

Letting out a breath, Cas tried to diffuse the situation, but Dean could tell he was getting stressed. “Mom, this was my decision, my choice. It’s something that’s going to work out really—”

“And a boyfriend, really, Castiel? You were told Pamela would be here,” Daphne interrupted.

Dean wildly looked round, wondering if maybe it would be possible to pull a lever and drag Cas and himself down a trash chute and right out of there. Catching Rowena’s eye, Dean saw the maid following the scene with amusement. Castiel’s siblings were all looking away with embarrassment and Chuck looked like he wasn’t sure what to do.

“And I said that I would be bringing a guest. No one asked you to find me a date, mom,” Cas replied back coolly.

“Well obviously I needed to if you’re carrying on with some _hick_ ,” Daphne snarled, the way she said “hick” also saying “a man, how dare you, how can I expect grandbabies if you act all gay”. Yeah, Dean had heard that tone before.

“ENOUGH!” bellowed Chuck, suddenly at his feet, staring daggers at his wife.

The table hushed and Dean let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in. Cas sat back down. It was meant to be Dean’s turn to talk.

“Dean,” Chuck said, sitting back down, “what are you thankful for?”

Getting to his feet, Dean looked at the unfamiliar faces gathered around the table, hoping that no one else was as angry with him as Daphne. Everyone else gave him an encouraging nod, while Pamela gave him a wink.

_But what am I thankful for?_ Dean gave his lips a nervous lick. “I’m thankful for… Cas; my little brother and…” Dean thought of his father in rehab, spending his first Thanksgiving without his own family in a long time, “... and… my father. I’m thankful for family.”

He sat back down and finally Rowena was running around by herself: pouring drinks and passing food, as the meal commenced in earnest.

Everyone was so full after the meal that Dean’s pies were kept in the refrigerator. Cas begged off spending the evening with the rest of his family and Dean didn’t blame him—he looked so tense, like his body was about to snap like an overstretched elastic band.

Going upstairs, Dean found his stuff had ended up in Castiel’s room. Before they closed the door, Rowena stopped by.

“If there’s anything the two of you need, you let me know,” Rowena said, handing them a tray with mugs of hot cocoa on it. She looked like she was still amused by what had happened in the dining room, but also felt sorry for the two of them.

Once they were alone, Cas put the cocoa on his bedside table, got on the bed and pulled Dean down on top of them even though they still had their boots on. Cas nuzzled at Dean, making Dean feel safe and wanted. His own tension started to roll off of him and he rolled them onto their sides, kissing Cas.

“I’m sorry,” Cas whispered against Dean’s cheek as he nuzzled at him again. Rubbing his cheek against Dean’s. The motion made Dean feel dopey with his stomach so full.

“I’ll admit, I’m thinking Christmas in Lawrence after that,” Dean half joked.

Cas sighed. “I didn’t expect mom to…”

“To react like that,” Dean finished for Cas.

“I thought maybe she would have accepted by now that it isn’t all a phase.” Cas pulled Dean closer and breathed him in.

Stroking a hand down Castiel’s back, Dean hummed. “Your dad seemed cool with things.”

“Yeah. He’s always gotten it, me. Understood that it takes a fair bit for me to get attached… and that I can get attached to women and men.” Cas snuffled at Dean’s neck and kissed it.

Emotionally exhausted, they shared a quick shower, dried and eventually got changed into their bed things and crawled into bed together. Dean dreamed of the pumpkin and pecan pies he’d yet to savor.


	11. Chapter 11

Sat in the family living room, Castiel didn’t understand why it was all so cold and empty. He kept trying to light the fire, but the kindling wouldn’t catch alight. No one was there and he shivered, his clothes unable to hold warmth to his body. A hand landed on his left shoulder and spun him. Dean was there, concerned frown on his face.

“Cas, you’re shivering,” said Dean. He leaned in and wrapped his arms around Castiel, kissing him, hands wandering and massaging heat back into him. _Not gonna think about last night,_ Castiel repeated in his head, trying to lose himself in Dean’s closeness. Castiel was naked, having gotten too warm in the night and pulled his nightwear off.

Feeling the start of an erection pressed against his thigh, Castiel opened his eyes and realized he’d been dreaming—though he really was cold. Pressing closer to Dean, Castiel shivered and kissed at Dean’s chin.

“Maybe you should warm me up?” Castiel teased, letting his tongue suggest what activity might be suitable as he licked up the side of Dean’s neck. His boyfriend shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold.

“I dunno… what if someone hears us?” Whatever concern Dean had, it didn’t stop him from grinding against Castiel as he spoke.

“Door’s locked,” Castiel replied and then slid down Dean’s body, disappearing under the covers. It was dark, but Castiel had no problem finding the waistband of Dean’s sweats and then pulling them down.

A startled moan worked its way through Dean as Castiel took his fattening cock into his mouth, sucking on it to make it harder. Humming around Dean’s length as blood rushed into it, Castiel caressed the underside of his shaft with his tongue. One of Dean’s hands reached under the covers, fingers twining with Castiel’s hair while he enjoyed Dean’s saltiness, musk filling his nostrils.

“Fuck, Cas. Fuck,” Dean moaned, trying to keep his hips still. He really was trying, but as the wet silken heat of Castiel’s mouth started to travel his length in earnest—Dean wanted to just thrust up into that sweet mouth.

Cas swirled his tongue and Dean moaned loudly. “You’ve got such a beautiful mouth, Cas... Damn perfect... So hungry for me and my cock... So fucking hungry,” Dean panted out.

The wet pull and drag of Castiel’s mouth made Dean want something more. So much more. But he wasn’t sure if Cas wanted it.

“Cas, sweetheart,” Dean called, gently tugging Cas off of him. “Do you… could we… um… but only if you want to…?”

Dean was finding it hard to say what he wanted. Climbing up Dean’s body, Castiel drew level with Dean’s face and said, “Are you asking to fuck me, Winchester? Fuck me in my bedroom, _in_ my parents’ house?”

“Yes,” Dean squeaked out, face burning.

Chuckling lightly, Castiel crawled out of the bed and padded over to their bags. He quickly found the lube and some condoms, having been the one to pack them in the first place. _Better to be prepared_ , he thought and while it had been some time since he’d played with himself, he felt a heady need to be filled.

The bed shifted behind Cas and Dean held a hand out for the lube, but Castiel shook his head. “Nope, you watch,” Castiel bossed, tossing him the box of condoms, climbing back up on the bed and kneeling with his back to Dean.

Dean’s cock practically weeped as he watched Cas lube his right index finger up; bend over so his face fell onto the mattress; spread his legs wide; circle his hole and then start pushing his finger inside of himself. While Cas played with his hole, slowly pressing his finger all the way in, he also fisted himself and Dean wished he was helping out. But Cas had told him to watch, so he watched.

Starting to lazily fist himself, Dean couldn’t tear his eyes away from Cas as he opened himself up. One finger quickly becoming two, then three and that fluttering hole was pink, slick and beautiful. Dean couldn’t remember ever being this turned on—he’d topped before, but they weren’t Cas—hearing Castiel’s breath stutter and the little whines that worked out of Cas as he prepped.

“Dean,” Cas panted, fingers finally slipping out of him. “Condom.”

Dean didn’t need to be told twice, retrieving a condom and putting it on, he lubed up and then shifted Cas around. Mainly so Cas wouldn’t fly off the bed when they started in earnest. Bent over in front of Dean, ass up in the air, Dean admired that view of Cas and then grabbed onto Castiel’s hip with one hand, his other hand holding the base of his cock.

“Dean!” Cas urged.

It was Dean’s turn to chuckle as he lined up with Cas and then slowly slid home.

“Fuck,” Dean and Cas said in unison.

Swallowing hard, Dean placed both hands on Castiel’s hips and willed himself not to act on instinct. Willed himself to give Cas a chance to adjust. He hadn’t slept with another man that many times, but Dean knew enough about topping that he shouldn’t go straight to the main course.

Castiel trembled a little as he felt Dean’s hard cock inside of him, filling him. It had been some time since he’d been with another guy like that, but Castiel felt a furl of need deep inside himself. Grounded by Dean’s hands, Castiel experimentally pulled away away just a tiny bit and then pushed back towards Dean’s cock.

“Yes!” Castiel cried, hitting his prostate.

“You gonna let me fuck you?” Dean asked, voice deep and Castiel had to take a moment to admire Dean’s restraint.

“Fuck… me.”

Those two simple words seemed to break a damn within Dean, and Castiel felt a thrill as Dean utterly possessed him, grabbing hard, pulling out almost all the way and then slamming back into him. Castiel braced himself on his arms as best as he could. The rhythm his boyfriend sent was intense, but his cock was hitting home every other thrust and Castiel was sure he wouldn’t last long. The wooden bed, while sturdy, shook and creaked around them, doing nothing to hide what was going on.

Moaning long and loud, Castiel met each thrust of Dean’s. Pre-come making a damp spot on the sheet beneath him, Castiel felt the furl of an approaching orgasm. Stomach tensing, Castiel shouted Dean’s name as he came over the sheets, arms hardly holding him up any more.

“Fuck, Cas!” Dean cried, following him, thrusts overstimulating Castiel, making him feel like jelly as Dean finished coming too.

Collapsing onto the messy sheets, Castiel whimpered when Dean slid out of him. Closing his eyes, Castiel was happy for Dean to be the one to clean them up, and then prod him so that he shifted and could put his head on a pillow. Peeking an eye open, Castiel looked at a clock on the nightstand: it was only seven in the morning.

***

Sneaking downstairs in sweats and a t-shirt, Dean headed for the kitchen. Castiel had gone back to sleep, but Dean knew he’d be awake soon enough, hungry and desperate for coffee. No one else in the humongous house seemed to be awake, not even Rowena, so Dean figured no one minded if he flipped on the oven and fetched his pumpkin and pecan pies from the refrigerator.

He found coffee grounds and filters too, so he got the coffee maker going. The kitchen mimicked the house in scale, but Dean was able to track down everything he needed to give Cas the breakfast he deserved. Thinking about what had happened in Castiel’s bedroom, Dean started to flush a little, his mind not able to quite file away the delicious noises Cas had been making.

Putting the pies in the warmed oven, Dean wondered when they might switch things up a little. Dreamily thinking of what it would be like to sink down into Castiel’s lap, Dean failed to hear the slippered footsteps behind him, only turning around when an agitated “harrumph” drew him away from his thoughts.

Turning round, Dean gulped when he saw that Daphne had joined him in the kitchen. She wasn’t dressed, a colorful silk robe wrapped around her slight frame. Her hair was up in rollers, but that did nothing to tame the anger in her gaze.

“Making yourself at home?” Daphne asked icily.

_Seriously. This is pathetic_ , Dean thought to himself, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Just fixing some breakfast for Cas.”

Daphne harrumphed again and walked over to the refrigerator. “If you leave now, I’ll make it worth your while,” she said from behind the open door.

Castiel’s mom couldn’t see Dean blanche at her words, but Dean couldn’t believe what she’d just said. _What the hell do you say to that?_

Closing the refrigerator, a carton of orange juice in tow, Daphne walked over to a shelf and pulled down a glass. “I’d normally have the maid squeeze some fresh, but she’s got this morning off. So, what will it take, Dean, to make you go away?”

Backing towards the coffee maker, Dean gave Daphne an unimpressed stare. “I’m not going anywhere, Daphne. Not now, not ever. My love for Cas is not for sale.”

Sipping daintily at the glass of juice, Daphne’s nostrils flared. She put the glass down and leveled a furious gaze at Dean. “You’re wrong for him. He needs… someone in his life who will be there for him. Help him create a legacy.”

“A woman.” Dean crossed his arms and leaned against the counter behind him.

“Yes, a woman. Like Pamela. She’s perfect for Castiel.”

“Why, because she’s rich or because she’s female?”

Daphne took another sip of juice. “Both,” she said, putting the glass down.

Dean shook his head in disbelief. “Cas is his own man. He’s doing well for himself. He’s doing what he wants with his life.” At “doing” Daphne flinched a little. Dean held back a chuckle and continued, “And I don’t think you appreciate how hard it’s been for him. Finding someone he loves, someone he wants to be with.”

Snorting, Daphne jabbed a finger towards Dean. “Pamela is a beautiful woman. If you would just step away—”

“Cas doesn’t care about looks. Doesn’t care about whatever... crap you’re trying to make him live up to. What is so hard for you to understand?”

“You ruined his career,” she hissed back, changing tact.

Incredulity clear on his face, Dean clenched his jaw. “No, his boss did that all for him when he tried to assault Cas.”

Daphne blanched. “You’re lying. Anna Milton would never do such a thing. She gave Castiel that position as a favor to me.”

“Oh for… Cas doesn’t know you got him that job does he?”

For a split second, Daphne looked sorry, but then it was gone. “And? As I said, Anna would do no such thing.”

“Yeah, well Anna Milton wasn’t his boss. Crowley, uh, MacLeod was. And he tried to take advantage of Cas… Christ, you never told him that you put in a word for him? You lied to him? You have got some serious control issues, you know that?” Dean decided then that the pies were done and went to get them from the oven, picking up some oven mitts he quickly retrieved them.

Daphne didn’t say anything as he sliced the pies up and put the slices on plates for him and Cas, then put those on a tray. He stalked past Daphne and grabbed some whipped cream and cream from the fridge. Dean sorted out mugs of coffee for him and Cas, grabbed some forks then made sure everything was on the tray okay.

Getting ready to carry the pie breakfast off, Dean gave Daphne one last look. “We won’t be staying for lunch.” He didn’t wait for a reply, only just keeping his anger in check enough to stop the tray from shaking as he walked away.

***

“Home sweet home,” Castiel mumbled, dropping his bag just outside his bedroom door and looking back at Dean. He had never felt so happy to be back in the apartment, well maybe when he and Dean had stumbled in on Halloween.

“Hey,” Dean put his bag down and wrapped Castiel in a hug, “you still got me. Still got Gabe. Your dad’s definitely on your side. Can’t say anything else about the Novak brood… I’m sorry I had to tell you the bad news.”

Staring into Dean’s green eyes, Castiel couldn’t feel that bad. Still a little, but not like his whole life was worthless. Looking into Dean’s eyes, Castiel knew he could do what he wanted to achieve. He just wouldn’t be talking to his mother in a long time.

“Think we can spend Christmas here in Lawrence?” Castiel asked, dipping down to Dean’s neck and kissing.

Dean grinned and brought their mouths together. “You understand that means we’re having Christmas at the Roadhouse, right?”

Kissing back, Castiel smiled and let his hands wander Dean’s body, slowly helping him out of his leather jacket, and then his shirt. He had the sudden need to get Dean naked. “So long as we don’t make Ellen do all the work—sounds good to me.”

Allowing his jacket and shirts to slide to the floor, Dean looked at Castiel with apprehension. “You’re sure?”

Castiel’s answer was to lick along the seam of Dean’s mouth, opening Dean up to him. Pushing his tongue into Dean’s mouth, all tension fled Castiel as he tongue fucked the man and dragged him into his bedroom at the same time—only narrowly missing his bag.

The two of them toppled onto Castiel’s bed and then Dean started operation get Castiel naked while Castiel tried to get the rest of Dean’s clothes and shoes off. Soon enough both of them were naked and writhing against each other, lengths hard and firm between their hips and stomachs. Still feeling the ache of their morning activities, Castiel nibbled at Dean’s collarbone while sneaking a hand around to palm his lover’s ass.

They’d showered just before leaving his parents’ place and Castiel figured Dean was still fresh enough. Dean whined as Castiel slid down his body and then flipped him onto his back. Looking up at Dean, his lover’s cock jutting upwards, Castiel licked his lips. “Dean, lube.”

Sucking in a nervous breath, Dean reached a hand out to the nightstand and grabbed the bottle on top of there. He had an idea of where this was going as he passed the bottle to Cas.

“Mind if I… return the favour?” Cas asked casually, breath ghosting over Dean’s hole.

Pre-come dripped out of Dean’s slit and he nodded. “Cas, need you, baby. Need you.” Before Dean could say anything else, Castiel’s mouth went to his hole as his hands held him apart. Cas licked at his rim, tongue artfully pressing up against him.

Thoughts swirling to a halt, Dean lost himself in the slow press of Castiel’s tongue and cried out when his boyfriend got past his first ring of muscle. If someone had told Dean the same time yesterday he’d have two family arguments under his belt and be on his way to his second hot sex session of the day—Dean wouldn’t have believed them as the room filled with the smell of both them, musk and desperation.

Cas spent his time eating Dean out, seeming to savor every lick and taste of him. It was agonizing and every time Dean went to touch himself, Cas batted his hand away. Once Dean was a little open, Cas finally started using his fingers and some lube to help him further along. Unable to remember when someone last took such good care of him, Dean whined and pressed downwards, each drive of Castiel’s fingers making Dean hunger for far more.

“C’mon, just do it, Cas,” Dean begged.

“You’re not quite there, Dean,” said Cas, finger brushing against Dean’s prostate. A full body shudder worked its way through Dean and his leaking cock smeared more pre-come on his stomach. Fingers artfully stretching Dean open, Cas gave Dean a look that suggested he was struggling at holding back as much as Dean was.

“Okay,” Cas announced just as Dean was about ready to wrestle Cas to the bed and have his way with him, “condoms, top drawer.”

Taking a few seconds to understand what Cas meant, Dean flailed and finally caught the handle of the nightstand’s top drawer in his hand. Pulling it open one handed and grabbing at the first foil wrapper he felt, Dean tossed a condom to Cas.

“How do you want us?” Cas asked, voice hoarse with want as he pulled his fingers out of Dean and then went to put the condom on. The emptiness made Dean whine.

Dean pushed up and knelt beside Cas. “Wanna ride you.” He kissed Cas, long and deep, then helped him lay out on the mattress. Slicking Cas up, Dean straddled him and held onto the base of Castiel’s cock as he slowly slid down onto it.

The tight heat of Dean’s hole made Castiel reach out and grab onto his boyfriend’s thighs, to stop himself from bucking underneath him. Seeing Dean impaled on his cock was breathtaking—lean muscles, freckles here and there like fine speckles of gold leaf, kiss swollen lips and sparkling green eyes—and everything Castiel wanted there and then.

Dean trembled around Castiel, and then leaned down, placing his arms either side of Castiel. He kissed Castiel softly, lips only just grazing each other. And then Dean rolled his hips and Castiel was lost in the slip and slide of their bodies, the tease of Dean’s sweet heat around him. Pushing back onto his thighs, Dean looked down at Castiel as he rode him, breath stuttering, moaning low in his throat.

Holding onto Dean’s thighs, the soft hairs on his legs so strokable, Castiel shifted his legs and started to move with Dean. The two of them worked their bodies in tandem, chasing pleasure for each other.

“Cas! Damnit!” Dean cried out after one thrust. “Again,” he begged. Castiel obliged, trying to keep his hips in the same position as he thrust up while Dean met him and he knew he was hitting that oh so sensitive bundle of nerves inside Dean.

Castiel wanted to keep looking at Dean, but as pleasure filled every nerve in his body it was impossible. Similarly affected, Dean closed his eyes and rode Cas, stomach tingling as he drove himself downwards again and again.

Thighs straining with the effort of fucking himself on Cas, Dean peeked out from under his eyelids just as Cas opened his eyes. Their gazes met and Dean licked his lips as he took himself in hand and started to fist himself in time with his hips. Sweat trickled down Dean’s back as he worked himself closer and closer to release, he started to clench his hole and Cas growled.

“You’re gorgeous… Dean,” Cas panted out. And that was it—the two of them came within seconds of each other.

Spent, Dean crashed beside Cas. Kissing Dean’s forehead, Cas let go of him and shakily clambered out of bed.

“Don’t go anywhere,” Cas ordered as he went to grab a washcloth.


	12. Epilogue

Christmas day was one of Ellen’s few days off as far as Castiel could tell. In fact she hadn’t even cooked dinner—Bobby had a domestic streak that shone through with the perfectly cooked ham he’d brought out to the table. Along with all of the fixings and potatoes they’d had, everyone was almost in a food coma.

The Roadhouse was empty except for their party. Someone had suggested playing pool a little while ago, but everyone had said no and Castiel was pretty sure why. If he’d bent over to take a shot at the table there and then, he would have barfed. There was no escaping how full he felt. Even Benny looked like he’d eaten his fill, and he and Dean had had a roast potato eating competition going on at one point. Sam had been in on that, but he’d had to drop out pretty early on, his huge frame apparently not equalling a similarly sized stomach. Castiel had said no from the outset. Jess had told Sam that joining in was a bad idea, but he didn’t seem to regret it until dinner was over.

Food still covered the table. Castiel was sure they’d be eating leftovers for days. How anyone would have the energy to open presents, Castiel was unsure, which was a shame, because he’d been looking forward to Dean opening his present from him. A present he was pretty sure he’d managed to hide from Dean for the past two weeks.

Dean and Sam were gathered around Dean’s cell at the other end of the bar, talking on loud speaker to John. Their father was still in rehab, but it was going well. Castiel was happy to give them their space as Ellen, Bobby, Jess, Ellen’s daughter Jo, family friend Ash, and Benny nursed some shots of whiskey, the remains of Christmas dinner still in front of them.

Pulling out his own cell, Castiel looked for his Facebook app, to distract himself. He had it in a folder on his homescreen, but rather than press the app’s icon he accidentally pressed the one for AlrightyAphrodite instead. He hadn’t been on the app in months and was about to close out of it when suddenly two messages pinged into it.

 _This is worse than Tinder_ , Castiel lamented. Curiosity got the better of him and he clicked through to the messages:

[Supersaurus] Cheeky smile, great taste in TV series and videogames. Will you be my angel this Christmas?

Castiel rolled his eyes and clicked through to the next new message:

[Cliveytron] Hey there, you have time for fun today?

Rolling his eyes again, Castiel shook his head and navigated to his account settings. His finger hovered over “Disable your account”. A third message pinged through. He hit “Disable your account” and then closed out of the app. Navigating to his apps manager, he found AlrightyAphrodite and pressed “Uninstall”.

“Whatcha doing?” Dean asked, suddenly at Castiel’s shoulder.

Offering Dean a sweet, butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth smile, Castiel held up his phone so Dean could see the screen and the uninstall message.

“Just taking out the garbage,” Castiel explained.

Dean nodded in acceptance, smirking. He bent down and lightly kissed Castiel. “Presents?” he asked, backing away.

“Sure, if anyone can move.”

The mention of presents seemed to re-energize the party and everyone scrambled up to go over to the bar’s Christmas tree where all of their gifts had been left earlier that day. When Dean finally got to Castiel’s present, the mechanic looked at the squat, large oblong present with curiosity. Slowly he unwrapped the gleaming paper from it. The gift had heft to it and Dean had to hold onto it.

“I noticed that some… classics were missing from your collection,” Castiel explained as Dean finally revealed the stack of rock records that was his gift.

The topic of music had of course come up between them, and Castiel and Dean had done more than neck to some of Dean’s collection. But during one night when nerves had been feeling a little raw, Dean had mentioned how John had broken some of his records. So Castiel had set out to replace them.

“Thank you,” Dean said, voice soft. He kissed Castiel and then handed him his wrapped gift. “Here.”

Taking his gift, paper covered in small Christmas trees, Castiel stared down at the small rectangular box that was about as long as his forearm. No idea what it could be, Castiel started unwrapping it, revealing a plain white cardboard box. Castiel opened the box and slid out its contents: a desk name plate—brass backed onto hard, gleaming wood—on the plate it said “Castiel Novak, Founder and CEO”.

“Dean… thanks,” Castiel said, turning and kissing his boyfriend. Heart light and life full.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you've enjoyed reading my longest, standalone Destiel fanfic to date.
> 
> Kudos and comments appreciated. I will endeavor to respond to all comments.
> 
> You can find me over on Tumblr at [dreamsfromthebunker](https://dreamsfromthebunker.tumblr.com).
> 
> 1 April 2017: Before you potentially, comment that a demisexual person somehow wouldn't fall for someone as fast as Cas does, please respect that this story is written from my own demisexual experiences. I resent that I am having to put this note in after posting, but I am sick to death of all the comments that are trying to nullify my own experiences. Everyone's a bit different, but the key thing is the lack of immediate attraction - Cas is not instantly attratced to anyone in this story.


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